Possible

Somewhere in France, September 2013

I wake up but still do not want to open my eyes, I want to hold on to that last dream. But I wake up and realize that the sleeping bag is wet and I remember how tall I’am. Another day of rain, but after yesterday's victory nothing can stop our joy. Andrés is not sleeping neither but he is not moving a finger, maybe just listening to the rain that hits the roof of the tent and rolling up his feet.

Finally he hugs me, and still no need to say anything , we both know that we are tired and we are not going anywhere, at least for a while. After some minutes I decide to look around and calculate the damage of the rain inside the tent, to late to do something. I remember that we are alone in the camping and the reception only opens a couple of hours, and it's still early . - Do you realize where we are? - I close my eyes once more and I can see the wet grass , the empty cabins, the surrounding mountains , the stillness that makes us sink. I go back to sleep as holding on to a dream.