ME WHO DOES IT DO??
do not know who let me do ...
do not know who let me do to get up at dawn on Sunday after a week of work by wearing my heavy rucksack ...! I do not know who makes me do it ... is a life on the weekends I'm dressed like a "bear" ... I suffer from the heat and thirst, cold and wet clothes from the rain ... during those long distances I wanted a laid table sitting on a comfortable padded chair but ... instead I find myself starmene grass, his legs crossed that "squeak" at every at every movement, constantly changing position because of the smoke the fire that runs as the wind goes ... how many times I have burnt their fingers to turn over the embers of the big sausage and how many times I have singed his beard to feed the fire with a blast off qusi ...
How many times have I wanted a hot coffee al'alba cold at dawn when I left the tent ... how many times I wanted a pair of socks and shoes dry and clean warm and comfortable .... how many times I put lips to the bottle with the uncomfortable feeling of not having even a drop of water ... then ....
then falls in the evening and arrives the silence: discover "little things from nothing" as the unknown, isolation, immense, fear, exhaustion, conflict, conquest, the challenge, the trip the success or failure ... Of course the mountains far away and unreachable as the horizon that opens up all these things is very strange deal ...! Fa effect? It's always behind or in effect to discover things something else? When I'm sitting on a rock I always stop to listen ... There is always a voice in the silence ... how many times I've wondered that c. .. I was there to do up there died of cold or doubled up with nausea or with all that air under their feet, but even alone at night in the silence of a wood or with eyes fixed on the feet while walking, footprint after another, one step after another ... in front of a fire from the glare of the distant past ... before the day that he "screwed up on itself at sunset, in a rough camp on the time ..... I know that God loves the mountains and if there is a place where I imagine that it is precisely here, within these rocks between the silence and the wind ... I do not know why I do ... but right now, as I finished writing, I find myself with my backpack and I'm closing the front door ... WOLF
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