Qué sentido tiene viajar 

Ver glaciares

Atravesar montañas

Ver la tierra desde el cielo

Admirar los ríos y las cascadas

Si eso no cambia nuestra forma de entender el mundo

De sabernos mamíferos

Naturaleza

De entender que nuestra vida tiene relación con esos glaciares que se derriten

Con esas montañas que se incendian

Con esa tierra que se erosiona

Con esos ríos que se contaminan y esas cascadas que se secan.

Dicen que uno solo ama lo que conoce.

Qué sentido tiene viajar entonces, si no es para conocer y así amar este planeta

Nuestra forma de vida no es compatible con los recursos limitados que la Tierra tiene.

Los glaciares volverán a congelarse y avanzar; vivos. Los bosques en las montañas reverdecerán, los ríos eventualmente volverán a tener aguas limpias de plástico y mercurio. Las cascadas se recuperarán y volverán a caer con fuerza entre la vida que florece en las pendientes. 

Pero no sé si nosotros, los humanos, estaremos ahí para admirarlo.

Pérdida y permanencia

Algunas cosas se pierden indefectiblemente.

Las primeras veces

La inocencia 

Los amores fugaces

Otras se quedan aferradas. 

Los finales

Las despedidas 

Los olvidos

It started 10 years ago

Maybe I entered a coffee place in Prague and you opened the door for me as you were coming out.

Or maybe you were passing by and got captured in the back scene of one of my pictures in Berlin.

Perhaps we once queued together at the entrance of Torres del Paine. 
You could have been standing behind me, talking to your girlfriend.

As you walk quick, maybe you saw her smile in the distance while I stood at a bridge, far away, under the same sky.

It could have been that I rang my bell at you at a crossroad in Santiago. 
Me riding my bike. You learning random Spanish words like obvio.

We coincided several years in several places.

We coincided but not. We were perfect strangers.

Until we got stuck in a cafeteria, waiting for a bus to take us out of there, heavy rain all around us.

I was waiting to get my beer, you came talk to me. I smiled.

I came sit to the table next to you. 
I told you random stories I've collected through the years. Same years that we coincided but not.

I went talk to a Brazilian man that was asking for directions and asked for a ride.

We squeezed in the back seat and laughed.

For couple of hours I spoke English and Portuguese. 
We saw guanacos. We  left the clouds behind.

I brought you along to my hostel and we put a mattress on the floor. 

We laughed, we measured our strength, we talked for hours, we danced on a parking lot, you gave me a long hug.

I went to my bed and you held my hand. I caressed you. The room was dark.

I came into your sleeping bag to be close to you. You held me tight. 

I didn't want to say goodbye.

Next day we took the bus. You looked at the Patagonian landscape through the window. 
I looked at you, sitting a bit behind.

That afternoon we walked arm in arm. 
In the pocket of your jacket you held my hand.

I took you to the cab to go to the airport.

We kissed on the cheek, you lifted me in a hug.

I waved at you from the square and started missing you.

You texted me that night.

We kept each other awake. 
You read what I write.