I started to realize that the desert was like a mass grave for migrants on their way to a better life. The mountains were pure rock: it felt like if you removed a single stone, it would set off an avalanche and crush us. The ascent was difficult: it wasn’t a question of walking up the mountain, but of scaling it, step by step, rock by rock, looking for a passage through wherever you could, often retracing your steps, with your body in a constant state of tension. The mountain seemed to go on forever; we climbed and climbed, and it remained before us, indifferent to our efforts.
