Report to Greeco

My report to Guico is not a resume, for my personal life has some value, and quite relatively, exactly for me and not for anyone else, and the only value I know in it was in the efforts to rise from one level to another to reach the highest point that her strength and stubbornness can take her to, the summit I named arbitrarily "the Cretan outlook." Therefore, you, the reader, will find in these pages the red trace left by drops of my blood, the trace that indicates my journey among people, emotions, and ideas. Every human being, deserving of claiming to be the son of man, must carry his cross and climb his calvary. Many, and in fact most, reach the first or second degree. Then they collapse, panting in the middle of the journey, and do not reach the peak of the calvary, in other words, their duty's peak. To be crucified, to be resurrected, and to save their souls. Their hearts weaken out of fear of crucifixion, and they do not realize that the cross is the only way to resurrection, and no other way. There were four decisive degrees in my ascent. Each bearing a sacred name: Christ, Buddha, Lenin, Ulysses. And my bloody journey among these great spirits and other spirits is what I will try hard to clarify in these "diaries," after the sun has almost set — it is a journey of a human carrying his heart in his mouth as he climbs his rugged and harsh mountain of destiny. All my spirits are a cry. And all my actions are stumbling over this cry. Throughout my life, there was a word that tormented and renewed me, which is the word "ascension." And I will present this ascent. I blend here reality with imagination, with the footprints I left behind as I ascended. And I am eager to finish quickly before I wear my "black helmet," and return to tradition. Because this bloody trace is the only mark that will remain of my crossing to the land. For everything I wrote or did was written or achieved on water, and has faded away.