The highest summits in the world stand in front of me. It is hard to believe that they are only a consequence of the collision between two tectonic plates. No, deep within me I know it is about something else, about a truth that we cannot grasp and try to justify with arrogance; because the only certitude is that everything, absolutely everything about these mountains defy imagination. And from this imagination was born the fascination that pushed me into this adventure between the disproportionate peaks of the Himalayas, the ancestral homes of the gods.
But beyond greatness, I have also been struck by the ubiquitous contrasts. Dark rocks, almost black, dusted by an immaculate white snow; thick forests, sprinkling with life, subtly shedding their skin to become barren wastelands; colossal mountains, invulnerable in appearance, being slowly worn down by ice and winds in a relentless cycle. Standing on guard, I have contemplated the battle fought between these titans of light and shadow, a struggle marked by the sound of avalanches of rock and snow, and so I became aware of the impermanence of the world.
Gods themselves die
And in this slow decay
From their sweat create life.