I left to find myself, to not explain myself, to talk to the dry badlands so they may tell me their secrets.
I left to be able to see myself reflected in the mirages of the desert and thus to realize my own nature.
Was I dead or alive? Or maybe both?
Was I the one in that desert? Or maybe my other self?
I was only aware that suddenly I had no fear of holding a weapon, of shooting. I felt fugitive and I knew as far as I was able to come.
I wasn’t scared of death. So I, since time immemorial, had learned to dance with her.
Only that now, it was me who was dead.
It was me who invited others to dance.
The one who wasn’t scared of anything.
So when one is dead, one is never afraid of anything, not even of life.
