I came upon a place covered with invasive weeds, clearly no victim of natural controls. Wading through the jungly green and crushing the slightly wrinkled leaves with each step, a strong odor of garlic overpowered me. The essence lingered for days in my clothes.
The farm was immense, while strolling towards the main building I noticed a man approaching. He was holding something in his hands and therefore walking slowly and cautiously. Then I saw he was carrying a white carton box in a rectangular shape with several circular holes at the sides. I could hear strange screams coming through the holes but decoding what kind of creature could be inside was almost impossible. By the time I realized the high-pitched shouts were alarming and threatening the man had disappeared in the woods behind me.
I had been hiding for several months, waiting to regain strength. Then unexpectedly I emerged at the beginning of fall making a series of long walks. One afternoon I observed a group and as if running, no living parallel to their world, I fought a sudden urge to lift my arm for a casual hand wave.
All I could think of was getting away from there as fast as I could. Disillusionment made me abort my next trip and I decided to backtrack the route I had read in the long letters given to me weeks ago. My rental car had a cracked windshield after a couple of pebble assaults but the view through it was magnificent, I drove fast. Some time that night I stopped and fell asleep as I had done innumerable times: unaccompanied and nomadic.
After my shortened stay with the religious tapir a darkness had fallen over me. Travelling was virtually erasing my longings and I suspected I had reached a pivotal point .
She looked like an Indian tapir while she moved herself through the house now and then gesturing as if to grab edible foliage.
While showing me my room for the night she told me about her recently finished biography describing religious appearances and miracles that had happened during her long life. Lowering her voice and leaning closer she murmured the release of her book would be organised by a friend after her death. It would be a best seller luring masses of people to her house, the new holy place where pilgrims travelled to form all over the world.
While grazing her way back towards the small living room I heard her high voice creaking thousands of fans would want to meet her and that thought scared her. So her plan was watching all the fabulous consequences of her book from her reserved place in heaven.
I almost dropped my camera as I staggered back into the room, the air had gradually become heavier and thick curtains blocked any light from leaking in. I could hear sounds of turmoil drifting towards me.
Did I have to travel this far to find what I know now ?
While pondering this thought, I felt the cold night breeze stroking my skin.
I was staying a couple of days in a unique place near the sea, called The Peace. While wandering around the vicinity of my perishable refuge, a totally disconnected thought suddenly occurred to me.
