This immense valley is hidden, sunk between the whitish hills half stained by the last storms. In the background, I count twelve separate lakes, isolated from each other. Each with its penetrating and particular presence and its transparencies, which let you guess a certain color.
Thus begins the following note from my friend Krkyn’s travel diary. The most significant for me, personally, that’s why I want to tell it.
From above some are like mirrors and others, like deep black holes that invite you to dive into them, without fuss. They call me, they attract me. They are mine and I am theirs. My heart beats inside my chest, in love with the possibility of lowering.
The earth, fragile, breaks under my feet. I realize that climbing then will be almost impossible. I have almost dragged down. My ass hurts, I think I scraped my skin and I have splinters of white stone embedded in both hands and on the right elbow. My right hand hurts more.
He says nothing more about the fall, but the following hurt a lot:
I sit halfway in front of one of the lakes; I almost went headlong to slip a moment ago.
I have begun to salivate, inexplicably. Suddenly a strong and harmonic citrus aroma, slightly spicy leaves a bitter sensation first and sweet at the end, on my palate.
I close my eyes and let go. My heart speeds up even more after the fall. After a slight shock I recompose myself and force myself to continue, whatever happens and the first sensations have given way to refreshing and effervescent waves of a fragrance that continue to tickle my upper nose and stimulate my saliva even more.
My mind clears and the pain in my body is followed by the desire to dive into the lake. Inside, my heart calms down. Lyn’s memories come back to me; They are sweet and wonderful moments together. The cystic loneliness cracks inside my skin, giving way first to a warm sensation that dilutes my resentment with life for having taken it and then, an injection of acidity, soft and pompous, finishes clearing my mind and connecting with my memories more Happy and optimistic. I can see her again, finally.
Now his thin thinness, his yellow curls and his confidence in life have returned to me to stay, I know, thanks to the oily liquidity of this lake that sustains me.
Damn cocky! I believed his best friend. In the end it has turned out that Lyn Lemwn lived in a distant system and died young, according to the record of Commander Ukiuk.
We always thought this man was a loner, barren and dry, but he knew how to love. He tricked us.