2008, December 8th 

The mosquito net was wrapping me in a dark bubble, on the ceiling, the fan pulsed, in the distance, the thunderous waves smashed the sand in an other violent battle. 

A body was lying beside me on the mattress, slowing down my run towards death. 

The effort needed to leave that limbo emptied me of every ounce of love towards fellow humans that I had left. 

Outside the room the air was electric and the moon a neon bulb. 
I walked. 
From my end of the beach to the other it takes around twelve minutes. 
The fifth time I completed the route, balancing a plexiglass ball on the top of my head, on the point the scriptures call बिन्दु, a distorted voice came out of the darkness. 

I thought I misunderstood because it sounded something like: «And what is this, now? The pope?!» 

This boy approached, grinning like a maniac. He said he had asked a lighter to a guy sitting cross-legged in the sand, in the dark and this son of a bitch, poser! Didn’t even fucking answer! «What kind of meditation is it if you can’t even help a brother out?» . 

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