This book is a personal, an extremely personal, portrait of Ecuador, of my country, of my homeland. I have traveled its roads in an attempt to find healing following the death of Carolina, trying to find a formula for converting grief into beauty.
Nostalgia and sensuality need one another and nourish one another. It’s a virtuous circle: to overcome nostalgia one must declare the triumph of the senses, assert the concrete importance of the here and now.
When you climb up to those peaks, far off in the distance you see mountains that are even higher yet — mountains surrounded by dark forests, terrible and mysterious mountains impossible to climb.
This is a project I began in 1985. Every weekend I would drive out to the mountain. On those trips, I grew to know the wind. The wind is the voice of the mountain.
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