8.
Bacchus’ Temple.I stayed at an inn near Murol, situated further down in the valley. Early in the morning I left with my dog, my skis and my miserable empty rucksack in the direction of Raboullet’s farmhouse, asking the landlady to look after my belongings until my return. I had paid her the night before; she was still asleep when I left. It was freezing outside. And dark. Not quite, though; a wan light shed by the moon cast sprawling shadows on the snowy surfaces. Every which way I looked there was a kind of desolation which gripped the soul and made me wonder whether I ought to go home…Home? Where was it? Did I have one? As usual, Nature was silent, silent and stealthy as a thief.
I skied with ungreased skis all the way to Raboullet’s farmhouse, an exercise I wished then I’d never ha
