Carena

CARENA are the Tibetan horns that blast an ancient sound over the valley, howl like a wolf howls at the moon and at the same time warm the night or make it darker.

I howl, I scream and I sing from the hull for the echo of the sound to come back to me and hit me again.

Carena is the last journey to the summit, there at the top, where the pilgrims leave their crosses in perpetuity, the Sherpas their coloured pennants in honour of the gods, where oxygen ceases to exist.

And up there, like the blades of a mill or the light of a lighthouse, my voice will resound to leave my trace.