There is something mesmerizing about the saline mine landscape in Bonaire. It feels like being somewhere else, belonging to outer space, where huge conveyor belts are everyday business, pink comes across as the normal shade of water and white flakes gravitate around you as some kind of abstract butterflies. Ironically, Bonaire's history around salt flats is a bit more about pain than it is about dreams. When the Dutch arrived to the island, it was obvious that it didn't have much to offer in terms of crop but man, those flat lands on the south... They could do as perfect salt mines, when mixed up with a sufficient amount of skilled slaves.