An old man walking in a mountain just made of rocks, silence in the space, just me and him, we cross our path, no words, just a slightly movement of our chin to say hello. Sun is setting and a strong hot wind is blowing. I quickly turn, feeling that this moment has passed and I should keep walking. I see his silhouette with the flying jacket in perfect harmony with this old landscape, he is a piece of the mountain, I understand the wrinkles of his skin and from where he comes from.