Being lost. It already happened to him in the mountains, but he always found a way somehow. There’s GPS, the stars, a phone when it works. He ascended to the highest peaks, battled through the craziest journeys, tricked nature and death several times. Invincible. Or at least he thought so.
Now, he is standing in the middle of the dancing crowd, wrapped in the beat. Stumbling in the stampede of 4 a.m. ecstasy. The warm sweat in the air clouds his judgment. Nothing to guide him on this landscape. He’s more lost than ever. So he just melts in. He tries to. But you can see that somehow he doesn't fit in. I see it.
He is suddenly behind me. We dance without exchanging words. In his eyes, there is something extremely interesting and sad. I say 'hi', he says 'hey'. I tell him my name, he shouts back his. He is a man of few words..and several shots. I ask him what he does and when he says he is a mountain guide, I get it right away.
An alien, an outsider who is on a quick trip in search of human connection. You and me both buddy.
I can see that he is tired, barely standing up. I take his face in my hands and suggest that he goes home. We fight our way to the exit through the mass of people, stuck to each-other in the midnight moist. Outside, the October air cuts into my light coat. We walk a bit, but he doesn’t seem to know where he is going. Who does?
I ask him if he would call an Uber. He doesn’t have the app, never used it. Makes sense. I smile and offer him a ride, the address he gives me is on my way.
'Karim is arriving in 1 min in a black Volkswagen Passat'.
He looks at the car and smiles: ‘this is cool!’.
Meeting Joe Black..
Once installed on the backseat, he puts his head on my lap. I stroke his hair.
We ride in the night in perfect silence.
Recalculating..
Waiting for ETA..
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