Sunday, 29 November 2009

A Night

Blackdrop. The darkest night I've ever seen. So dark, the stars could almost be fetched with ones hands. Thousands of stars, engaged in a slow dance, flirting almost. The milky way as visible as the spiders that crawl on your shoes if you step out of the tent.
Five or six tents spread over a small area. Lanterns an ghost stories rolling from tent to tent alongside the nicotine and maryjane. Jose Julio, Jorge Mario, Oscar and Luis pee in a line, looking at the sky while killing insects with the yellow liquid.
Nights in the rainforest are longer, not because of the absence of light (light never lacks there, and stones glow in the dark, reflecting the moonlight.), but because your dreams seem to be as old as the stones used in the temples. Sleep is heavy and memories from ancient times gravitate in the environment colliding with your thoughts from time to time.
Legend says that once, one of the guardians of Tikal fell asleep at the top of the big temple (the Great Jaguar). He then woke up having had the most extraordinary dream; in his dream, he participated of a funeral some thousand years ago. He saw every detail of the ceremony including the exact position of the grave of the magnificent king who was being buried.
His words awoke the curiosity of the archaeologists who had been trying to find that spot. To everyones surprise, the place he described was in effect, the place were the king had been resting since his death.

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