Walking on the dusty road I approach monumental, but neglected, and as time will reveal, also dysfunctional gate. There, I jump over a small short wall, and after overcoming short anxiety I dare to go inside. I slowly begin to see divine scenery. Lot of palm trees, aromatic almonds, a mixture of dried flowers, which are quickly replaced by new ones. Tiny insects and specific climate. Immediately, I put down my rucksack, shirt and, finally, my shoes. Quietness of the breathing forest brings me pleasure and assurance that I may get comfortable.
I imitate bird sounds, so that I soon realise, that I haven´t pronounced a sentence for a couple of days. I don´t miss it. I don´t wait for a visit. Ultimate? Where is my famous pocket machete from a market for 2 pesos? I crawl on my four through the huge tangled branches of a short dark bush. I imitate movement of a tree, as it was growing, in order to sling out of the branches. I´m done. I am barefoot, dirty and in awe. Inside of this never-ending jungle, there stands a masonry cold mansion.
...
Castle on the gate wasn´t needed. It was clear, that the mansion was left forever and in hurry.
Heavy velvet curtains, golden birdcages, marble mortars nor silver plates were of importance in the moment of farewell. Apart from an uninvited wayfarer, only one uncanny fondness apparently went missing. In the bedroom, an open, brass box of chocolates was lying on the dressing table next to the bed, filled with impressively painted artificial nails. Only one pair in shade of red was missing. An empty space pointed to a hue between carmine and magenta.
