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To say goodbye, I would like to thank Vicente Huidobro, and solidarity with one of his poems for my trip, and also many thanks to Ignacio Herrera Vicentelo for his dedication and for being the "landscape" of my other self artist.

Made with dedication...

And last but not less important…

Every time you said good bye, I wanted to you don’t go...until I draw the opportunity to go with you. Thus, walking, we decided that was better continue our way, but the decision was something drastic because we did not want continue in Santiago, but in a more quiet, new and very green place. It was all very crazy and we take the first bus that was available. We had a little clothing, something of money, did not carry food; but we were happy and calm.

The trip was long, but each time, breathed the new air that filled the sky, with more happiness, because we knew that we expected an experience deeply mystical. Spent hours and we talk a lot of everything from the seeds of confidence until the pompous clouds that were looking into the sky. Sky which we saw reach and that were looking forward to feel. Felt not only in our hands, but with all our desire to maximize every minute there.


Prior to go to the ferryboat, I put between my fingers, that whim that a long ago I wanted to savor, and that, thanks to a momentum only from the moment I fire… my cigar. There I realized how close was on the principle of a cancer that give not opportunity to go back. Cancer that multiplied the connection of my more neckties illusions. Illusions renegade by fear to begin a cycle that I wouldn’t know how to stop. But I was not alone and it did me have a exaggerated confidence in every step I gave, and also, at every step that we gave.


Apart from so many wonderful, I saw a pure and alive smile, that cluttering every thought that crossed by here, I was excited to the point of view in every detail a world... was your smile. The details overflowing the place and my head; you don’t seemed impress, although I knew you were even more amazed that I.

Since I put a foot in Chiloé, I had no doubt my acts; I inspired by your mischievous steps, dreamed with your eyes looking that sky and breathed each one of your desires. I was shocked by the magic of the place, and to you, hallucinating.

Not even interested us talk, but each one thought about us. I stopped many hours in the colors and sensations. You? I don’t know.

Imagined the landscape without colors, what sense would have everything? After I saw things as they were in fact: a pale blue heaven, white and shiny clouds, a green fable forest and the sun simple and small. Everything was perfect and you didn’t speak anything, absolutely nothing, but suddenly, your gaze lost in the cloud more distant, spoke to me and I, impressed, only responded with a smile.

When we get to the top of a hill i watched the north, we get very hungry. We had cigars, water and loose coins in the pockets of your jacket. For a while, we prefer draw with the air of the south, but none of two were satisfied; so we get down.

When we arrived in the city, we seek rapid a place where to eat. Found restaurants where sold much casserole, curanto, and things of that style; but we did not want soup. Better than that, we went to a business and we saw the light of the tunnel: "3 minutes pasta". There’s nothing better than something delicious, convenient and cheaper. In spite of being the food simpler than I have sampled, was delicious; and how I am glad! was the best. We were well and we continued walking. We did not know whether if: we were going to where our feet went? Or we took our feet where our impulses wanted to go?

We didn’t stopped to think, because we knew how to ignoring the voice of our minds and heard, as ever, what whispered the voice of our other Us.

(…)

On the snow we heard slip the night.

When about, your voice fell trees and behind the fog, I could listen.

A gaze turned it on my cigar, and you, decided, ravished that light between my lips, and went, little by little, filling of clouds the vacuum.

You were quiet...

The port that we saw arrive, had the masts filled with nests, nests that were the illusion of go back some strange time.

The wind said your name and mine between the wings of birds.

The waves moved the vessel of our silent voices.

You on the shore whistling, looked the star that smoked between my fingers.

(…)

I isolated thought that everything had been a nonsense of the moment, that there was nothing important... When I heard say: "simpler is less stupid for me."

There were you, so subtle. I was awakening... (For my sadness) we came back to the basin, called Santiago.