Most of the time life happens inside. Not on the streets nor in crowded squares nor at the top of that nearby mountain, but inside the house. In the lobby, in the living room, in the hallways. In bed. I’m now looking at the walls of my room. The light is holding back behind the blinds. Only a few broken rays manage to enter, projecting the colours of the outside world onto the interior walls. The same walls that are retaining that other world from existing here. Today nothing or almost nothing happened. There was this feeling again. As if we were watching from a boat how the earth gets smaller and smaller. Unwaveringly. Sometimes like now I don’t even remember why I’m here.

Memories disappear or get confused. There is no connection to what exists outside the house. It’s working. There is no Wi-Fi. Maybe there is just no outside the house. I’m eating an apple. Sitting in bed. It seems that there is nobody else, but there are actually others. We are all eating apples. This means it will soon be dark. The night will come after the apple break and we will all leave our beds and wander around until a warm bath will cover our body. They change the scents of the hot jacuzzi session daily. Yesterday it was something between lavender and orange. I’m ready to have a bath. I will take off the white t-shirt and the white pants uniform and put the white bathrobe to wait for my turn. Yes, waiting is the point.

Last night, a Japanese guy taught me some new exercises. So we lay down on the ground while he was singing something like the background sounds of a winter forest. No lyrics. Almost silent. It was all very simple. A little bit of stretching. Looking for some muscular rest. We barely moved, but it helped me to instantly fall asleep, without resistance. The bed is always clean. The sheets are changed every day.

I slept. My dreams were again the same dream. There is a house with many rooms and I’m walking from one to another. In circles. There is a dining room with many cups of coffee and toasts and butter and jams of different flavours and honey. A party is happening next door. I go to the party room. Something is different tonight. People are not standing or dancing and talking to each other. There's nobody at the party. Just the music and the lights. Then there is a bedroom with a balcony and the balcony leads to a precipice with an access to a narrow path that goes along the coast. I look down and I have no vertigo. The ocean is hitting hard. As I walk, there are rocks falling, rolling off the vertical cliff. It’s probably dangerous. I can become one of these rocks and roll into the water and disappear. I walk through the path but I’m again going from one room to another. The party is packed with people. I recognize some faces. All faces. Even if they are all blurred by some strange effect. I know who they are. And I'm again contemplating the big breakfast table.


I woke up and it was today’s morning. No sun salutation because it was cloudy. We went downstairs and had breakfast, a continental breakfast. Then it was time to sit down on the carpet with our coffee. They call this ritual the silent coffee. It consists of silently occupying a piece of carpet and drinking coffee.

There are some tacit rules concerning the agitation of the mind.

No thoughts. The idea is not to think at all. But I thought of my dream. If this happens, they allow us to leave. So I went for a walk. The dream was happening here. I was walking from room to room. There was a locked door with some music behind. It was maybe the party room. I tried but couldn’t enter. I continued the itinerary. The are no ocean views but an immense magma of clouds. The other difference is the consistency of the faces. The ones in my dream are blurry and the physiognomy of the ones I see here is in high definition, drawn with precise lines. In both cases, I can recognize them, I do recognize them. But I don’t really know who they are. […] I enjoyed the morning shower.

The mountains have some snow on their peaks.


Tonight’s soap was made of coconut and almonds or some other type of nuts. We all waited to get into the round bathtub. The others were as quiet as usual. The water was extra hot.

Watch out, said the woman who helped me get into the bathtub. I obeyed. I carefully walked into the smoky pool. That moment of going from dry to wet, from gravity to floating. You can stay inside the pool for as long as you want but it burns, so we all have enough with just a minute or two. Then comes the waterfalls walkway. You walk under different temperatures of falling waters. High pressure. And finally the drying area and the lying down session. […]

There is still a coconut smell.


Today was a particularly short day. The night came earlier.


To run away from here would be as foolish and useless as pretending to run away from death.
If I wasn’t here, I would think of here as a place to go, to look for.

I think of images. Airplanes are flying in the sky, the one above. The sunset from the highway. A bench in the shade of some building in the city. The city. A magnolia tree. Huge billboards. Summer swallows. The song of an owl interrupting the silence of any possible night. Cows. Their eyes.

All this should be forgotten. It will be. Soon. It’s happening already. There are some moments of a calmed down agony. Things slowly melt. Like ice cream under a yellow sun.

This place is very far away.


They want to erase my tattoos. It will hurt. But it will be ok. I will be tired after the pain. Don’t worry. Tired looks good someone said.

Later in the afternoon the air got cold. There was snow inside the house, and the heater was not ready to react properly. This suddenness. The reddish sunset began to fade, anticipating the harsh sequence of the icy night.

Now is the time to sleep and the room is still not warm enough. Now it is.

I go to sleep.


There are books that don't have words inside. Blank pages and sometimes a diagram of incomprehensible meaning. Also, some cryptic forms, some hieroglyphs from somewhere


mysterious, fantastic


mysterious, strange, creepy, fantastic, terrible


mysterious, weird


spooky, ghostly, mysterious


intriguing, interesting, curious, mysterious, seductive, fascinating





shadowy, sunless, black, tan, gloomy, gloomy, mysterious


mysterious, dark


occult, supernatural, mysterious, magical

shrouded in mystery

shrouded in mystery, mysterious


strange, odd, rare, singular, non, mysterious


inscrutable, impenetrable, mysterious


subtle, delicate, fine, mysterious



mysterious, eerie, uncanny, spooky, intriguing, puzzling

shadowy, mysterious



I start to walk faster. The wind is implacable. The streets are cold and I am cold but I know there is an end. Going now in the direction of the hotel, anticipating the moment when I'll reach the entrance. I will step on the soft, thick hotel carpets. Wall-to-wall carpets. I will wrap myself in the silky smell of butter and soap that fills the air of hotels. The warmth in the elevator and the hot corridors. The top floor. The large and perfectly restored wooden doors. Painted off white. I approach my room calmly, impatiently. There it is. Satisfaction, like that of a day at the beach that finally comes to an end.

A sense of success for having overcome something seemingly easy but strangely hard. Survival can be this. The challenge of getting to bed after a day. The beauty of the bed. The bed as a reward. After being around extreme weather conditions. After being around in general. The return.

The return shouldn't be shorter but it is.

Any departure is in itself a challenge. Leave your bed. Leave the room. Leave the country. Leave everything. The return. The bed.

Even if you're running away, even if you will never settle. The bed. The return.

The body speaks.

After a very cold day of streets and streets or after a very hot day of sun and sun and baths. Days of leisure are hard days. The duration of that day. The obstacles. The achievement of reaching its end, like after a long day of hard physical work. Like after the marathon.

Exhaust yourself to allow yourself to surrender. They pamper the guests at this hotel. You should pamper your body with a day at the spa. Please pamper your body with abandonment. Now you can give up.

Fatigue implies the opportunity to temporarily step out of your own life. Even partying is an excuse to get out of your life, to indulge yourself with a pause. To stop is not a consequence. It's the place where all your efforts lead.

Your days are a strategy to justify your desire to leave. To have the right to be destroyed. You punish your body to deserve a break. Tricks of the mind. It is 10 past 10. Yes. Maybe.



Are you sleeping?


Are you sleeping said the voice. Yes I said.

Are you sleeping I asked. Yes he said.


impossible to see or clearly distinguish.

unnoticeable imperceptible invisible

undetectable indistinguishable unapparent inappreciable barely perceptible impalpable unobtrusive

impossible to detect hidden microscopic nanoscopic infinitesimal negligible inconsequential unclear

fuzzy obscure vague indefinite nebulous amorphous

shadowy unintelligible incomprehensible hard to understand inaudible