I am on this road; curvy, broken, muddy, bending over this rugged mountain on a cool dusky evening; the last strands of orange in the sky are telling me that the sun is fast loosing its struggle to stay afloat in the vast open ocean of sky.
I am on this bend on the road, from where I can see the dirty mud stream a few hundred meters below, beyond where the root of the mountain is; the orange light from the struggling sun, the reddish brown color of the soil and the dark brown gray rocks.
I am on this strange plane; where conscious and unconscious mingle; where the road to lucidity meanders into a swamp of dreams; where sometimes one finds a few drops of solace for the thirsty soul.
I am on this unknown latitude; where topography alone is not strange; where thirst is every where around.
Staring blank into these moments, endless only if they would be. The darkness of the night seems to grow on me slow; like weed crawling slowly in the blood.
Lost I turn around and march, rev up the engine and head back to life.
(seen on the way to heaven)