the roads in America, a journey to everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

It is very easy to get lost in those roads of the American lands, traced only by the steps of the horses and the natives through the years, intermittent, discontinuous, tangled roads as if they had been traced with a kind of space trap that transports you back to the beginning, roads that lead everywhere and nowhere.... Sometimes you think you recognize something that will guide you, but immediately you blink, its forms mutate and suddenly you are in a completely different landscape... could it be the great variety of thermal floors? Or is it the mirages and dehydration playing with my senses? Are these spaces really changing faster than I can walk? I find it a bit scary, but also exciting to have to venture out and let myself get lost, because this is the only way to get to a minimally different place, only if the landscape wants it... at the moment you make the decision to overcome its mandates, you immediately return to the place you started from, losing absolutely everything you got. This is the land of the myths that drown the boaters, the land of the beasts that eat the naturalist, the land where the most experienced cartographer gets lost for days or years, the land of the vortices and the trap where the bait is greed and where the prey is the one who tries to measure, describe or tame it.