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The matches are named after fruits.

From Poshina to Phimbalia are three km. In monsoon times 70.

The buffalo eat the dried leafs from the cotton.

I counted the passenger of a jeep randomly: 32 people.

The adivasis are buried in their fields.

For the second time we’ve seen a couple of mongooses. Animals have their own routine and everyday we see in the same places a couple of kingfishers, one of which perches on a dead tree in front of the adobe house of a advice family to which we have reached to say hello. We have been shown their cows proudly. The man beats his wife. Garasia community is concentrated in the village of Bedi, a “high class” of adivasis if that makes any sense. Some are considered purer and prevent foods from other adivasi communities. The don’t tend to send their girls to school. they wear colourful vests embroidered with mirrors and flowers and adorn their bodies with tattoos and silver bracelets. In Bedi there are mayors but P. said that important decisions are often made by the husband. The roads are full of small cotton balls, perhaps the only thing pure in this overcrowded, dirty and yet addictive country.

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Chevy Crespo 
Lately Chevy only talks about “The Cave”, a cache hidden in a ravine in black Peruvian Cordillera. It has several project to equip, including a pathway called “Healing” (8b+). There we arrived from Huaraz to continue with his work and to enjoy around 10 days of the mountain and hiking. We slept in Andrew’s shelter, an argentinian mountain and San Pedro lover, which hosted us with great kindness.
We went down and got loaded of material. Some days we went back at night and almost without food, but the beat is rewarding from watching how Chevy hikes, which is like some kind of species of lizard dancing on the rock.
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Dreams book. 16-8-2014

We are on the first day of college. I was responsible for staying with Grandpa so I brought him to the class room and sat at the first table. The class was very boring so Grandpa stood up and began to draw a self-portrait on the board. Quietly and without hesitation quickly drew a wrinkled face and big ears. When finished he stares at the drawing and after bursting out of laughter he screamed WHAT ETERNITY DO!

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Ganges water

There are filthy, polluted murky and stenchy rivers. Then, apart, there is The Ganges which besides is goodes Ganga home. When I was 14, defying my father, i dove into its water and i never return to the surface, cleaner of course but less joyful.

In order to not forget it, in my shelf rests a bottle filled with Ganges water. From time to time this bottle atracts my sight because of its divine power and whispers to me. I grab it and shake it to make the sediments settled at the bottom mix together again. If I was a wicked intellect i will use this bottle as a metaphor about life, which sometimes need a jolt to not accommodate. The true is that I am not such a privileged mind and I just shake the bottle to look how this little and brownish particles come and go quietly, gliding smootlhy as a peacefully foetus in its amniotic fluid.

The dance of dead sediments recalls me to one of this snowball that I never had.

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Dusk on the edge of Nadelhorn (Swiss Alps). The night will fall soon but it will be as long as … as long as a sleepless night on the edge of Nadelhorn. The blizzard treats brusquely our tent, which folds it like a paper and fills it with snow from the inside. It is one of those times when one prefers the wind than the calm because while one is going to stop, the other announces disconcertingly the blow is coming. Seven hours later the wind dies down. Now we can pick up and keep walking. Only seven hours of journey left.

And when I returned, my friends answered holding a beer in their short pants “what a great life you liiiive”..

And they are right.

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