In Finisterre it is an habit to leave a personal object, to abandon it hanging by a stone or in a bush. An object that maybe binds us to some of our past experiences, painful or not. It is left to leave again lighter. A friend of mine throws on a cable a pair of old shoes with which he made the walk, and he had to throw them many times to get the rope. He would like to stop to look at them once again, to greet them, but he fails, he ran away, towards the 'earth'. There are some people who left screams, others who vented, but it annoyed me, breaking a murmuring and magical silence. On the cliff the fog is thick, rapid paths lead to positions perched or suspended on nothing, outposts for the unknown. Someone has written: "no fire, no hazard". "No fire" because it is an habit to burn objects that are no longer essential to us. This dense fog is populated with humanity that comes and goes, some in a group, some alone. There are rocks, turrets, stone crosses, human artifacts are mixed with natural ones, the end of the world is a no-place where categories are mixed and everything changes and approaches the true matrix of things. A girl is leaning on a cross, her arms folded, her hair flapping fast in the strong wind. Yes, there is a strong wind, it is like a wish. Who knows if she cries, will her personal object be made of tears? My gaze is lost in the white, I would like to leave so many images that I have inside but I can't think of anything, in truth I don't even think about something. My head is transparent and everything and nothing goes through it. My friend sitting next door throws a shirt in the air, is sucked off as soon as it leaves it. I think of all this strong wind that massages the muscles of the face, fills the brackish hair and beard. It's raining but I don't feel cold. My gaze is fixed on the beyond I don't see yet. The sensation is to be on the prow of a great ship that is the world, it is not the wind that rushes towards us but we are moving forward, we are thinking to be still, fixed to the same point, but we are moving towards a future that is still virgin, to be imaginated, to be thinking again every time. This wind I desire, nothing more. It should never stop. #finisterre #blackandwhite