Writing on volcanoes

Personally it was an extraordinary experience, I think that at a psychogeographic level it is only comparable to writing in front of the sea. The volcanoes make themselves felt, to the point of knowing you are a small volcano. Introspection by virtue of the landscape that the Hotel Riu Fluviá boasts is inevitable. What is it that can overflow me? How, what mechanisms can make me erupt? Without falling into the natural existentialism of being surrounded by volcanoes, in the smallness that would refer us to the sophism of being the measure of all things, how can one complement oneself with a place one has never heard of? At the beginning it is difficult, however, in my personal case I had a group that allowed me to recognize and find myself much more easily. Those mirrors that were the 7 other participants, in my case, gave me back an image that allowed me to access the bowels of my own volcano in a much sweeter way. I understood the violence I carry for belonging to South America in Sandra's incisive and accurate observations, my exaggerated eloquence in Thomasz's or Anna-Maria's silences, I knew I was intellectually restless before Johanna's astonishment, sympathetic before Simen's constant smile, permeable before Marie's gaze and contemplative before Juan Carlos' sensitive outbursts. The right medium can become a stimulus, an objectification and a playful perspective. In Olot, I could live the illusion of verbal tenses, let my guard down in terms of time (although there was a timetable, not obligatory, for breakfast and dinner) and float and lose myself in time. Of course, peace rested on the excellent predisposition of Pepa and Gavina and the kindness of the hotel staff. In these conditions, balance comes naturally. When you are in balance you know where to go and in those conditions it is very difficult not to be productive. And I say this beyond the writing that flowed like lava, but also in terms of the introspective. The weather shapes the spirit. The sunny days, with their rains included, with their parades of clouds were a journey that culminated clearing a starry sky in the interior landscape. It was difficult to fall asleep, I was not the only one to recognize this rarity, the reasons are still in the making, I want to think that it was difficult to recognize the difference between sleep and wakefulness and also that too many things were moving inside to reconcile so easily the abandonment and passivity.