The rain became more and more abundant as if the sky had become a giant water bladder that was cut in length with a sharp dagger, the wind performing the dance of madness without stopping and its voices are the howling of old women after a great pandemic. Samha is on its way to its inevitable doom as the mountain seemed to me a giant death with its arms outstretched, preparing to embrace them. A great ark flowing in greater waves, the first time I saw Samha sailing away while I was not on it, I saw her huge size, luxurious in construction, coherent in structure. As if I was watching her for...