I'm writing these lines in case I don't come home. Especially to clear up a misunderstanding, I came here of my own will and I assume all the consequences of my actions. My phone still has 76% battery power, I'm in no hurry. I'll take the time to write everything down to clear my mind.

I parked on the spot at the end of the Valley of Fire road, at the beginning of the White Domes Trail. As I arrived around eleven o'clock, there were already a few people there, but it didn't bother me. Actually, it was barely three other cars. I must say that my dashboard announced 112 degrees Fahrenheit. I don't know the conversion, but I know it's over 40 degrees in the shade, so it's not necessarily a day to hike. I think I even saw a warning sign at the entrance to the Visitor Center. I really only saw two people, who arrived a little before me and were getting ready when I parked. I didn't really pay much attention to them, except that I set out on the path right after them, with a bottle of water in my hand.

I quickly caught up with them, as they stopped every two minutes to take pictures. I felt a little relieved to pass them, it made me sick to see them wonder aloud, smile at each other, laugh for no apparent reason, hold hands all the time.

Once I was calm, I really started to look at the landscape. Under the blazing sun, the colours of the rock were all the more evident. Bright reds, bright whites, deposited in regular layers like the layers of a cake. And the sand, like in a real desert. That's when I realized that I was actually in a desert. I liked it. The loneliness, the silence. They spoke to my heart. I was still missing an element, however. The feeling of being lost. All I had to do was look around to find landmarks. The caerns that marked the path, the walls that framed it at certain shaded passages. I was in despair.

I finished the path at a brisk pace. It is a winding loop that winds through the domes for about two kilometres, before joining the road and following it to the car park. When I saw that I was back on the road, I felt the anger rising. Instead of turning obediently to the right and following the tarmac, I suddenly turned in the opposite direction. This way, I arrived 200 metres further on at the sharp bend before the parking lot, and there I saw the beginning of a tiny, barely visible path that was going into the bush. The promise of infinity.

I took a look at my cell phone. I had a text from Myriam.

Don't even try to come back begging. You manage to find a hotel. I checked myself in on the plane by myself, I don't want to see you on the flight or at the airport. I'm sick of you. You're such an idiot.

I answered.

Perfect.

At first, I kindly let my steps follow the discreet path. I was testing the ground. I observed, my whole mind attuned to what I perceived, without any more impatience, any torment. I saw dunes, rocks, small bushes. Hills in the distance. The reverberation of heat that deformed the horizon. I kept a mischievous smile on the corner of my mouth, watching for the moment when I was going to decide to play a trick on that nice path that thought it would take me to God knows where.

At the bend in a curve, I step out on the left side and go straight ahead. The ground is more loose and I take sand in my shoe, but I have indeed escaped. I frown and let out a growl when I see the path that comes back to intercept me from the right, but I won't let it happen. I am a virtual motorcycle in Tron, I am the snake on my old Nokia 3310. I run and cross perpendicularly just in front of my pursuer's head, which breaks in my wake. Game over.

Finally alone. Finally nowhere to go. I move forward without thinking about anything. I put down every step where I want. I no longer look away. I enjoy the feeling of being the first to set foot here, of leaving my mark where no other has ever been. Like a winter morning in the fresh snow. I'm making my own trail.

I walk a long time. I lose track of the distance. I drain my little bottle of water. My shirt is soaked in the back. I'm starting to feel the sun burning a little too hard on my arms, on my forehead despite my cap. The air I breathe suddenly seems low in oxygen to me. I spot a large bush that casts a small shadow, I settle there. I take out my phone, I try to look at my GPS. The map doesn't load but my position is right there. I am a small blue dot on a grey grid background. I take a deep breath as I scan the uniform landscape. I then begin to write.

So that's where I am now. As I have just finished these words, it is getting dark. I still have 47% of my battery left, it's 7:42 pm. The temperature is gradually lowering. I'll stay here for a while longer.

I think back to the events of this morning. Myriam had decided to spend the morning at the MGM pool. I really wasn't in the mood, I insisted heavily not to go. She finally left me. I turned on the TV and watched reruns of the evening shows, it felt good to laugh without worrying about anything. She came back earlier than expected, and as she entered the room, it seemed to me that something was troubling her. She didn't say anything, and was pacing round like a lion in a cage. I pretended I hadn't noticed anything. I turned off the TV. I asked her how the pool was. I never got the answer.

"Did you book the seats for the return flight? »

By the sound of her voice, I know she knows the answer. The bottom of my spine becomes a block of ice. I have a strange feeling, as if all the air in the room had been sucked in, or on the contrary as if I had suddenly been put in a hyperbaric chamber. The second before an atomic explosion.

"Uh, I don't know if you can really book seats 48 hours before takeoff.

- Wait, you didn't do anything? What the hell have you been doing all morning? You had all the time in the world and did NOT do ANYTHING? »

When I think about it, I don't think what she said was really a question, at least she didn't bother to listen to my answer. Anyway, I didn't have much to say for myself. Anyway, the first missile flies. I raise my voice and tell her to calm down, even though I know it's a bad idea. She sends in my face everything that comes to hand, and as the distance gets shorter, she douses me with all kinds of names.

"You're an asshole, you're useless. You're so stupid, I hate you. You never do anything, I ask you for stuff, but you're too stupid. You can't do what I ask you to do, instead you just sit there and watch your shit on TV. Anyway, you're a piece of shit. »

The flow seems uninterrupted, I can't say a word, I'm not trying to. She slowly moves towards me and holds her head in her hands, she ruffles her long hair, her face turns red, she has foam on her lips. She spits on the floor. She spits on me. She slaps me. She hits me in the face, rather. She shoots her nails into my chest and pulls my shirt, she tears it up. My white V-neck that I liked, ripped open. I can't tell her anything. My soul screams, "Why are you doing this to me? ", while my impassive body takes insults, spits, blows that make my head dizzy, scratches that lacerate my forearms. I always swore to myself never to raise my hand on a woman. But at that moment a truth suddenly seems obvious to me. I have the right to defend myself.

I block the next move. My few notions of aikido are more than enough to master her. I control her elbow and bring her face down, immobilized. Taken by surprise, by rage, she screams. Like a beast. Up to that moment, I have been absolutely calm, extremely cold. But I feel a dark anger taking hold of me. I tighten my grip on her arm and shout at her with a voice that makes the walls tremble.

"I won't let it happen again! Do you understand? If you touch me one more time, I won't let you do it again. Is that clear? »

She starts crying. I get up, she stays prostrate. I go to the suitcase to get another t-shirt, grab the car keys, my wallet, my phone and my sneakers, and I slam out the door. I put my shoes on in the elevator. I'm not crying.

That's how I got here, lying under a bush in the middle of the desert at the end of the Valley of Fire road, lost in the middle of the dark night. And I feel so good. Better than I have been for a lot of years. Lying on the sand, I see the stars for the first time in my life. I'm tracking new constellations. The Phoenix constellation. The constellation of the Fox. The constellation of the Turtle. I don't know if I ever loved her. Maybe I felt her sickly need to have me to herself, to possess me. Maybe it suited me to live like a grown teenager who gets scolded when he hasn't done his homework. Maybe she really loved me, but I doubt it. In any case, she was wrong when she thought she loved me, because you don't love like she did. I understand it now by looking at the stars. To love is to liberate. It is helping the other to be what he wants, to do what he wants, while expecting the same thing in return. And if we really love each other, then we find each other again. We are constantly taking paths that separate, and yet we do not stop crossing paths. We always find ourselves like two birds on the same branch. That's how we know we're meant to live together.

I feel very tired. It's late, I'm cold, I'm hot at the same time, and I'm hungry and thirsty. Tomorrow I will try to find civilization again.

***

I was lucky.

When I woke up the next day, I started again. I was very weak, the heat was terrible, and I was moving very hard. I fainted after a while. The rangers found me. My car had been reported the same evening, and they had spent the night and much of the next day tracking me. They found me unconscious early in the afternoon.

I woke up at the hospital where a nice nurse explained to me how I had been saved. I'm at Mesa View Regional Hospital in Mesquite. I can't talk because I was put on a respirator, but the police wanted me to make a written statement to clarify my story. I also have severe burns that make me suffer, so I was put on morphine. The doctor explained to me that I am being treated for the consequences of severe sunstroke. By doing tests, they discovered that I have a heart defect, so they will operate quickly to fix the problem. I miss my family. I cry a lot, too. All the time, actually. It is not so much the prospect of having a serious operation in a foreign country far from those I love. I think it's the backlash of my lonely expedition. I'm a little scared, but that's not the main thing. I especially mourn this time when I did not live as I could have, this lost time. And also I mourn the price I paid to earn the right to start living again. I'd do it a thousand times, if I had to do it again. But how hard it is. I have to go now.

***

I am being taken on the cart and I see the neon lights and swing doors passing by. I think I'm in the operating room, people are busying themselves around me. A doctor leans over to me and says through his green mask, "You're gonna be okay, pal. Just take it easy." Another voice tells me to slowly count down from ten.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.