2015 - 2019
« Siempre que estemos vivos nos veremos »
« As long as we are alive we will meet again »
"Siempre que estemos vivos nos veremos" is the last sentence Yair told me. We were on the rooftop of the block 11, the mist enveloped Caracas, the crazy lustle of the city sounded like a funeral lament.
The consciousness of his own end had something terrible and sublime at the same time. Everything was said. The emergency of life, the fascination for death, the downfall of the country. The extreme violence and the absurdity of the situation gave the impression that life was only a game.
I remembered two days earlier at the gallina (place for the fighting roosters). The smell of blood mixed with rum and sweat, the shouts of rage, the excitement of each man. An intangible trance intoxicated the arena. As if we were all crazy. As if blood, death and power made people more alive.
The chaotic energy of the city resonated in each fight like an unfolded, sustainable and helplessly crying dance.
My wanderings in Latin America were crossed by other striking encounters. Like these fighting roosters, I saw beings dancing and clinging to disorder.
Each time I found this same insolent sensuality, like a furious provocation, like the scream of a teenager amused by danger, condemned and free at the same time.