Day 2

This morning I was awoken by Vincent, counting his steps loud and clear “one, two, three…” It was very hot inside that room, where we slept in hammocks.  That night I had a strange nightmare, terrifying in fact. It was the apocalypse. People were running in every which way, walking on top of one another attempting to escape the approaching danger, relentlessly. An enormous prehistoric bird, like Godzilla, captured an ill-fated man right beside me, by taking him in his hands. In the middle of this catastrophe, John, in the foreground of my dream, smiles mysteriously. Little by little, his face begins to stand out. The End of the World ultimately reveals itself as an optical allusion. It’s a film projected on a screen just behind John.

Still in a daze from the exceptional wine that John served us last night, I try to put my ideas back into place. Coffee, made on a small water heater, seemed to have been left there simply to catch our attention.  It was impossible to find John and his fellow comrades; they had packed up their bags while we were sleeping.  Were they worried that they told us too much? Did alcohol cause them to say too much?  Did an unforeseen event force them to leave early? Were they discovered, and thus forced to move locations? We wander apprehensively through the underground labyrinth that opens up right in front of us. Little by little, Vincent and I also begin to feel a strange, exciting sensation: the space which we’ve been buried in for 48 hours finally begins to engage us. Vincent moves closer to the walls which he begins to scrutinize, to the smallest corners and their tiny movements. “Listen,” he calls me over. At first, we only hear silence. Then the echo, that is lost in the distance, slowly comes back to us. It’s combined with all the tiny noises in the distance and it’s impossible to make out the difference in sounds. A bit farther away, someone or something appears to move, close to us.  We fear that our flashlights will not be lit for much longer, and we move quickly.