Mountains don’t give you all,
it takes from you too.
You feel old with youth once you ascend the cold green and indigo water.
The roaming silence at the edge of the cliffs,
the mosses on the rocks,
and the narrow crevices of untrained endings…
all of these have something to offer and a lot to take.
But I guess the little they give is full of abundance,
the inferiority in being among the ancient knowledge makes you mad, deprived, soulless,
untouchable and unparalleled.
To be alone with your failures…
To be celebrated in your terminations…
To be able to be loved and to accept the sore rage…
Hills…hills, that’s where the empty ones went.

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Photograph: Toa Heftiba.