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I may die. I did all of this to prove myself and everyone else that I could do it. To prove it to you. And now I could lose my bet. I hope that my hands don't sweat too much. I hope that the driver will stop if I fall. I hope you miss me. "I remember that fateful day when I ran away and you told me I couldn't return." I found this song on my way to Milan on the train. It's what you told me before I left. To not return. Now the sun is hidden, darkness is stretching hands over the dunes and I am alone again. How did I arrive here? Sitting on the top of a car in the Sahara, spitting the sand out of my mouth and praying that my wet fingers won't leave the cold steel bars of the baggage rack. Still, I like the way the car jumps on the top of the dunes. I mean, it's kind of exciting. I feel like I am on a rollercoaster, and a dangerous one, but then you check if you have tied your safety belt and you realize you have no security belt. I remember that fateful day when you were sad and I took you to the rollercoaster close to the beach. You didn't tell me you were high. You threw up the whole time and I was really worried. But then we went for a swim and you were beautiful between the sunset and the sea. I hope you will remember that day if I die. Because now there is no sunset and if there was, my eyes are so full of sand that I wouldn’t be able to see it. Because now, all my life is in the hands of this stranger who is driving a wrecked car among the dunes of the Sahara desert. The car is moving slowly now. I bring the tissue out of my pocket and I clean my face from the sand, then I put my glasses on. An oasis. A camp with Berber tents. A big bright fire. Finally, I lay down on the top of the car and I breathe. And suddenly, I see it. Everything I did, I did it for this moment. The sea, watching mother Europe sliding behind the boat and Tangeri appearing among the clouds and the seabirds. Chefchaouen, the blue pearl. The donkey bray that echoes over the town, like an evil monster. The sunset from the hill. Fez. The market with its smell of spices and people. The eyes of the guy who robbed me. And finally Marrakech. The narrow and dusty streets where I walked. The colors and the sounds of Jamaa el Fna. All of this took me here. Laying down on the top of a car in the Sahara night, the soft wind caressing me. It's been a long and difficult way and I was so close to losing it all, just because I was keeping my eyes closed like the first time I kissed you. Maybe it's time to open them again. It's the brightest sky I've ever seen. It's the same sky of thousands of years ago when all of this sand was rock and history was a myth. It's something ancient and forgotten, but real and so close that I feel like I can touch it just moving up my arm. But I don't. I feel shivers running through my back. Maybe it is the cold steel of the car. Maybe it is something more. Maybe it is the frightful and at the same time fascinating idea that there is no more limit, no boundaries between the past and the present. I can see here, by my side, one of the first men watching the same sky. "I wanna run on the sacred dunes Through the ancient ruins Where the fires of my ancestors burned" The same song, again, like a sign. It was here at the beginning; it is here now at the end, like a circle where past and future rejoin. Now I am finally ready, lying below a crowd of shining stars, to leave you. I can die.