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We crossed the border and parted at that uncertain moment.
Now I find myself in an unknown city.
I rest in a small inn, where the owner is a peasant displaced by the cruel war,
The inn is a humble and welcoming refuge, where the walls shelter stories of lives that have been shaken by the local guerrilla fronts.
The peasant, tired of the horrors of war like me, shows in his eyes the weight of memories and the longing for peace.
In this unknown city, dreams mingle with reality, and time fades into a surreal halo.
The streets become labyrinths of light and shadow, while the buildings seem to dance to an invisible melody.
The peasant, with his generous gesture, takes me at my word that I will only be there for a few days and then I will get lost in the jungle.
That we are animals of the same species, tired of barking for a freedom that is only utopia.