Patrol -in- strange land

Texts and Images -Ferran Clavero-

This is the last patrol, the last ones observe the paths that have traveled. Today they will take their last steps. The last patrol, the end of the road.

They patrol foreign and foreign lands. They are watched by agonized defeated giants. They are accompanied by sad silent ruins.

They patrol for long forgotten fields of memories and words that lost in the wind they receive without ceasing.

They patrol the mountain of stacked death, losing hope and illusions. Fate is dark, lonely and sad. Their search becomes meaningless banality.

They find opaque answers in cuts of life, written in murky, bitter and passive words ...

They patrol in search of a sigh of hope, a glow in the mist, or that simply, after all the way traveled find that hope does not exist ... that the mist is too dense and that their destiny has been, is and will be patrolling for a Dead world, desolate and infinite.

But sometimes it happens that everything is not what it seems, sometimes it happens that the sigh is not heard, that the brightness is not seen, that the destiny is not written. But there they are ... waiting.

It happens sometimes that there is nothing fixed. That although it is not seen, nor it is heard, everything is there. Shining ... sighing ... changing ... there is everything ... absolutely everything, and although, we can be blind and deaf, lies by our side.