I walk on roads that others have already trodden, the wind has erased their tracks.
I walk with ideas and intentions, but they get lost in the immense solitude of Atacama. I walk to understand, to feel vulnerable, I walk to find, as the poet said, a people lying in their habit.
I stop to look, to look attentively at people.
I want to see, I want to know before leaving, what the desert makes of them, what this land says about me.