Outside there is getting darker. The night is coming back as the warrior from the taken battle. Returning closer and smoother each night, getting more and more of the sky, more of the light that can be finally displaced.

I enter the corridor of the African-Asian mix. The sounds of music, the whispers of talks, the smell of food. On one corner I meet Nepal, my eyes shine, reminds are watering my head like the rivers of wild greenness that I remember, the soft smells of the old Bhaktapur City and taste of unforgettable momos still remains in mouths. I got more and more excited, I explode with words into smiled but little bit ashamed eyes of my new incomer. I talk to him and her at the same time painting in the air the way that I crossed with Grisza three years ago. I can feel the smell of the wind that was blowing close to the Pass, and the Sun that was burning our skin when we were getting closer to the lower parts of Himalayas. I could hardly breath with the moisture and high temperatures in the forests of beautiful Nepalese mountains. Behind the window I can see the moving waves of the Ocean but with my mind I am still smoking joint with Bebe and Grisza on the back side of the small gift shop, can still see in the shadow the waitress bringing us the fried potatoes that at that time were the best spiced in the entire world. I can feel all of that, all is alive in my beautiful world of images that once I captured with my eyes and senses. More with my senses than my eyes but all of them make the picture more visible, more clear, without the blurring of the western world.

The western world where I presently stay. More northern world than western. What does it mean. Does it have any meaning, all those worlds, atmospheres, gentle dialects of the culture. We remain human, but our attributes change at once if only we cross the imaginary borders of the world in where people decided to separate the unity of the earth. but on earth we walk, we can not see the borders, they are on papers, in our minds, in our ways of thinking in our worlds where once created we remain forever. So I sit in the north. Before I lived on monkey Island, now I stay in the city so just became the city boy from Tromso. I have never lived in the pink girls district or gangs streets, neither close to the farmers or other so called people. We live close to each other. We are actually neighbours. There might be differences in our appearances but we can still communicate in one language and share the bus stop. But in some minds our destinations are completely opposite, inverse, vanishing. And all those barriers and names and pseudonyms in one closed mind, that cant see farther than the fence of her own farm, behind where all are strangers and bad.
But in the northern world here are also few beings that make all different, special and unique. For sure at least there are 280 dogs that i miss so much and now I already realized that the last winter was a gift. Even if exhausting, even if sometimes too much indicated into peoples behaviours, still remain the one that I will remember till the finish line. I can open the box with the images from this period. First there is only whiteness, it is snowing, snowflakes are falling down on our hoods. We stay in the darkness that sometimes reflects the headlights attached to our bodies to give us the space where visible truck will be followed. There are so many dogs, I don't know them yet. Later they became my friends and loves, but now I am still in the morning darkness, standing with Grzegorz-the best polish musher in Tromso- I am picking up the shit and think what the hell am I doing in this condemned place. Adaptation. First I don't talk. I sit calm and observe, listen and try to behave as much freely as I can pretend to do that. After a while the things develop, there is rain and snow. There is darkness that I truly love, and there is a woman that is given me to love. She shines with the read hair, she burns in front of me. I don't want to posses her, I want her to love me for the rest of her life. The red is spinning around her neck, I am getting more drunk and hallucinations become stronger. I want to kiss her. I take her on my hands and I follow to the room that become our love place for next few months. We clung to each other and we want to stay in this embracement to the end of the night, that hopefully will never finish. But the night was dense and long, with the sparkling lights of the city seeing across the fjord. The night was superior with the ballets of the dancer that covered with green was performing in the endless space of universe. we were given those moments only once in our life time. That was so perfect and unrepeatable. The dogs were amazing. So clever, so brave, so non demanding. So powerful and strong. They were excellent. The life was simply good even if at that time seemed a little bit complicated. So night is coming back but I am leaving. If for constant or just a period of another great adventure of the play in life. Who knows. Nobody even dared to suppose that the last winter will look as it did. Why I think about the winter. It is the 12th of August, the middle of the summer and i already started to think about the winter. I am weird.



it is still summer, the 13th of August. My mothers birthdays. My mother created from the pieces of never discovered passed. The pieces that provoke to move, to search and to find on the bottom of the heart that it really doesn't matter. The wind is cold today. This kind of autumn one, the light as well changed the saturation to more dramatic.

- Father, and what if we never wake up?
- Dont bother son. we will.
- but what if not. will be there also the sun and the flowers, father.
- dont think about it.
- but i wander what will happen when during the mysterious moments of transformation from the realm to the dream i will fall down to the bottom of my soul and will decide to die.
- how old are you my son?
- I am 25.
- You are still to young to die. You can still enjoy the Sun, and the women and dance. Look at me. i am twice older then you and the darkness of oblivion stays away from my heart. why do you think about all those black moments and the eternity.
- I dont know. I just wandered what if i fall asleep and never wake up.
- there is always the path that you can choose. The willing to live will drug you up and situate you in the moments that you would have never expected. There are still the tops to be climb and seas to be sailed. You can dye in thousands of way but dont follow the darkness of the dream. Force the illusion of divine happiness to leave you on the ground. On the place where the man should stay. Stay alive and full of willing to discover. Now you can pace your path son, your lesson is finished. Enjoy your life and return when you will find the answer to your question. What if you will follow the darkness of the dream. but be careful, son. It is not an easy way. Now go and leave me alone.
- Thank you father.


***


- Be welcomed my son. I see you managed to wake up each down and follow your path.
- Indeed father. In last twenty five years that has passed since our last meeting I have discovered and experienced all realities of the dream, and all illusions of the world. I tried to break it into pieces and then build again. Each time the new creation has been made and brought me into different troubles and rejoices. I met lot of people. Many of them have already died. Some are still alive and still in the battle somewhere in their realms. I came my father because the darkness can be followed, can be adapted, can be understandable and can be over-fought. There were many of demons that tried to tempt me with their tricks. Not all i rejected. There were some so tempting and so desirable that I couldn't handle their beauty. I danced with them all the nights, embraced in spasmodic orgies, i fucked them all and they were giving me their bodies without the thoughts of doubt, without a word, without any sound against my invasion on their bodies. They were demons father. They have the thousands orgasm of my betrayed mind, they enjoyed all my fallings into deeper parts of my subconscious. Sometimes I slept the weeks, I didnt want to wake up from their dreams that became my world, became my small room of vanishment. I wander father how much I lost during those nights that became the months of constant and undisturbed dream. I died few times during those sessions. Each time reborn again to life with only one thought. To go farther father. To go to the limits. To find in each piece of sand the perfection of the universe. To dont turn back. To follow the path. To sleep less and act more. To move. To become the nomad, the man without land, the man without the house and man without the bad that can sleep each night in the arms of the same lover. I became nothing and became everything. I existed and I didnt. I felt completely free, I became the wind, I became the bird that flew over the people, over the moments of life into the point where I came now. I am free of feelings and I want to die, father.
- It is not so easy son, you havent loved, you lived in the life of constant illusion. You became wind that blows over the mountains never rich the top. You became the bird but you have never settled up the nest. You are not free my son. You think you are but you dont. You are not free of death. It will come in the moment when you will not expect, in the moment when you love, and that love will become your life, will become the only realm that you would like to live forever. Then she will come and invite you to the common dance and then you will regret your willing to die that you had in the previous life. You died many times, when you had to be ready to sink into the dreams, but now my son wake up, reborn the last time go and find the woman. This is the last lesson I give you my son. I am too old to be alive here when you will come to visit me again. I am too old to teach you more. What I know now you will get it when you visit me on my grave. Then the death will reunite us in thoughts. but now my son, leave and let me die in peace.
- yes father, as you ordered.

***

The wind was blowing over the graveyard in forgotten kingdom of entire wisdom. The knowledge has been buried down below the inches of cold dirt that start to cover with the white layer of frozen air. There was only one person. He stepped forward to the graveyard, opened the front doors and entered the garden of endless emptiness. Never he felt more close to death and never he felt so lonely and abandoned as at that time. He crossed the life with only one thought - to understand. And now he is standing in front of his father, of his teacher, his knowledge. The man took of his clothes. He didnt feel the coldness, couldnt feel aching razors of cutting encounter.

- Here I am father!!!!!! Listen to me you old bustard!!!!!!! Can you hear me you fucking prick!!!!!!!!! I know that you are there. You also know that I am here!!!!! You hear me!!!! I am here!!!!!! I came again and not the last!!!!! I will never die!!!! I will live forever and constant to the end of this kingdom. I am the kingdom and you know about this. I am the castle of your knowledge that you tried to transfer to me through all those years. Here I am father because I understood! Now I know that the death is in each act of our deeds, in every thought that flashes in our minds, the death is the part of us and will never leave us alone. There will be always she that walks the step behind me and takes with her all that I touch, all that I love, all that I have ever decided to called mine. I understood father that she is coming in the moments of happiness and take what is hers. Takes the lives and people that we love without asking us about the word of permission and confirmation. She is uncontested and always true. Without the masks of illusions. She comes and breaks, possess and vanishes. She is the queen of life and the light of darkness. She is the goddess of forgotten and loved one.
- Here I am father!!!!! You knew I will come in the same conditions as you predicted. You left the kingdom and I am still here. You died but you are still in the center of the knowledge. You are still in my mind and you live. I can hear you in the whisper of wind and the movement of coldness that streams down my body. You are in me, i became you. NOW father I listen to you. I want to hear your last speech before the night of death will come down to the only woman I truly loved, to the one that now is dieing in her bed, lonely, without the child that could be with her in her last moments. The children has been taken few years after they have appeared. She lays in her bed alone only with the breath of the endless on her arm, with the queen that waits for another servant in her kingdom of vanishment. Here I am father because you expected me to come in the time when the death will come. And she comes but not for me but for her. You knew that also but you didnt dare to utter a single word about the course that lies upon our kingdom.
- Here I am father. I am ready. Continue what is inescapable. I am here. Fight!!!!!!

........

After the last sentence and order to the battle the fathers spirit revived in the body of his son. The battle began.

........