"He's gone, he's gone, forever!" I rebutted with denial. The bitter, anguished truth, forcefully burst, one by one my senses. I collapsed, it was only crumbs. The dent of my feelings, gnawed abysmally. My riotous emotions, revealed themselves. Agitation, with ingratitude, expressed itself again and again. They burst in and swept over with power, hijacking and snatching my tranquility.

I was assaulted and assaulted by anger, sadness, confusion, guilt and despondency. I needed to run away and process that it was gone...I could not tolerate assiduously hearing "You have to be strong" "It will all pass" .... My soul demanded, an escape. And I understood her in her demand, she was crippled, maimed, crippled, resentful of what she lacked.

Not everyone understood what I was living and feeling at that moment. Of course there were good intentions, many of them sincere and loving? I demanded other airs, to go other ways. I asked to live my pain, my suffering with all intensity and without dissimulation. I demanded to unburden myself, to accept my loss, to live my grief. I needed distance, another environment.

This disconcerting anarchy, which clouded and overshadowed me. It was an urgency to drain, it could not be prolonged. The heart implored and begged for reconciliation and acceptance, for love felt and lived. In its own way, it expressed itself by assuring me that this attachment and affection would never perish, not even in its absence.

I would travel to the intricacies of the Venezuelan Amazon, I would take refuge in nature. Only time and events would be the indicators of what was to come.

I asked for support from my cousin Caridad, always by my side. Silent and taciturn, but present to support me in my grief. "Caridad, after the funeral, I will travel to the Amazon" "Please take care of the details"

"Contact Mirla, she will be the one to organize everything in Puerto Ayacucho" "Look in my cell phone, her contact number" Mirla was a dear friend and lived precisely where I would be going. Caridad nodded and told me "Don't worry, I'll take care of everything" "Rest"

The funeral was on a Monday, on a sad and gloomy afternoon, the gray clouds foreshadowed the prevailing sadness and desolation. The raindrops fell unceasingly, they joined the grief. After the farewell, I dropped on a sofa, dozed for a few minutes. Then a soft voice called out to me: "Maria, your trip is organized."

Caridad said "You are leaving for Puerto Ayacucho, first thing in the morning" "We will take you to Maiquetia Airport, you will travel in a Hercules plane of the Venezuelan Air Force" "Your luggage and suitcases are ready" After the details, Caridad asked insistently "Are you sure? Is that what you want to do?" And I answered her, without any doubt "It is what I need... Thank you, thank you, Caridad."

I was welcomed by Captain Velasquez, I had traveled with him on other occasions, for work commitments. I was familiar with traveling in those types of cargo planes.

Already in the city of Puerto Ayacucho. My friend Mirla was waiting for me with hugs and condolences. I affectionately shared her residence for a day and thanked her for her attentions. The purpose was to interact with nature, I was leaving on my way.

In a protected area, guarded by park rangers, there was a cabin located in the Amazon rainforest. I had spent the night there and shared with other people, in activities of my professional practice. However, it was the first time I had done it alone. Its equipment was basic and Mirla had been in charge of providing it with provisions.

It was the place I demanded, the contact with nature. The necessary isolation for meditation. To regain strength, to search for meaning... Many nights I questioned myself repeatedly, looking for answers in my musings, but I only found emptiness in my inner world. I cried many times, shouted at others, I needed to drain, to release affectivities, dryness that slowed me down.

I walked through its landscapes, in long and extensive walks, perceptions sharpened and senses renewed. Synchrony and harmony began to flow in a great heterogeneity and disparity, in the unfathomable and inscrutable of the Venezuelan Amazon. I rediscovered myself and found myself again, in my disconformities, with my lights and shadows, among resonances, signs and fragrances. New nuances emerged, strengthening my identity and revalidating my existential sense, imprints were forged in my essence, which will accompany me forever.

The time to return had come. I hurriedly gathered my belongings, packed my bags and asked the park ranger team for support. They kindly return me to the city of Puerto Ayacucho.

Mirla, when she saw me she got excited, she told me "I am very happy, you have recovered" "Although you didn't see me there" "We were looking after you, you were never alone" I answered with tears in my eyes "Mirla, thank you."

According to the information, the next plane of the commercial line to the capital would be in six days. I had decided that my return would be by land. Approximately 18 hours of travel, it didn't matter.

It was a bright Saturday, so I walked around the downtown area. I bought the ticket and enjoyed a stroll through the Rómulo Gallegos square, where the indigenous market is located. With rejoicing and admiration, I visualized handicrafts of millenary tradition, ancestral, zealously preserved through generations, strengthened by their cosmovisions and cosmogonies.

I bought some gifts, among them handicrafts, catara (chili sauce), mañoco (flour extracted from the root of the yucca) and some fruits to enjoy during the return trip. Everything was ready to return, I had already told my family that I would be waiting for them in Caracas.

I would leave at ten o'clock at night. I didn't like traveling at night on the road, but that's the style of long trips. I looked inside my wallet, it was full of receipts from purchases made. I had to throw them away, so I started to gather the receipts. Distracted by the task, I tore them up and threw them away. Without realizing it, I made a big mistake, I tore the travel bill into little pieces.

She said "It can't be, how clumsy!" With disbelief, he visualized the discarded ticket. "Calm down", expressed Mirla, with a hopeful voice "Tomorrow we will solve that, the office is closed" "I will prepare for both, an exquisite dinner" "You will notify your family, the unforeseen" "You will turn off your cell phone and rest".

I replied "You are absolutely right" The night was progressing, so I decided to notify my family the next day. We had dinner, I turned off my cell phone and slept peacefully. The next day when I turned on my phone, I was surprised to see more than twenty missed calls, from known and unknown numbers.

I immediately called one of them and could not believe my ears. It was public news, the bus that night had collided, with regret there were a considerable number of deaths and serious injuries. Yes, the same bus in which I had been assigned seat 4D. But by mistake I had torn the ticket.

My brain was struggling to process the information, the shock was intense. Emotions were jolting: surprise, fear, anguish, bewilderment, dismay. The news cornered me. I repeated over and over again, unrestrained, "It could have been me, one of the occupants!" "If it hadn't been for my mistake, what would have become of me?" I felt in my head how my blood vessels were rushing blood. A throbbing pain, unbearable and intolerable, invaded my whole head. An intense headache dulled my senses. My eyelids almost could not close, they were invaded by a great edema that doubled in volume its capacity, a consequence of the unstoppable crying. Mirla, like me, was startled.

Chance? destiny? butterfly effect? I didn't really care much. I was grateful for the mistake, for being alive. Nothing would ever be the same again... Thus, I travel in the immeasurable and thoughtless existential life, with a past that escorts me, in a now that demands. I transit, in a spiral of representations and advents, sometimes of dichotomous extremes of lights and shadows, of charms and disenchantments, with chaos in order and order in chaos. At times with iridescent shades, in distorted and random dispositions. That is my life, in it I walk, in a vital transition.