sexta-feira, 27 de novembro de 2009


I can’t see into the valley, because the fog only allows me to see about hundred meters of a greyish whiteness and when it starts snowing again the “panorama” becomes even smaller. It keeps snowing and it seems like it will never stop.

Every time i move in my moist clothes i am reminded of the terrible cold eating into my bones and i am so exhausted i can’t even shiver from it. Shivering would warm me up for a second or two, but i can not afford to loose any more strength, not even for keeping myself warm, because every additional move took away my chances of staying alive … and i wanted to live, if only for another day. That is how my every day looked; day after day, night after night …

How long do I have left – the eternal question? How long can I keep this up? How long?

In my uninterrupted string of thought i was looking for hope, hopeless hope, looking for answers, a meaning, a message, a revelation … and when i have once again asked myself every question and rethought every thought, I “shutdown”, some big breaths and i am gone to a world where there is no time or space, no pain, no thoughts and no revelations … i fell asleep. Opening the zipper of my sleeping bag to a new morning … with anxiety in my heart, not allowing myself to take a fast glance around … “No, nooooooooo!!!” The pain takes all my hopes away…again fog, humidity and snow all around me … i can’t feel my legs! Like two frozen logs, just lying there, not moving, like they are not even a part of me, like all this is happening to someone else, someone else is lying there, in this icy coffin – hope awakes, maybe this is all just a terrible dream. Realization follows: “i am still here, trapped in the coffin of ice!”

There are moments, when time stops;
there is no yesterday, no tomorrow, it’s just you;
your light lights up, like a comet in the skies, for a second;
trapped in timeless time that is not there at all;
drinking from a spring is a gift in the blessing of reality;
sometimes a smile, a touch of a warm hand, a look that does not need explaining, is enough;
those are the moments when time stops for you.

Tomaž Humar . 18.2.1969 - 10.11.2009
The morning between sky and earth