

Sometimes, when I went out from the container, I feel to be like those women in the United States living in a camper in the desert, in the middle of nowhere, with a washing basin and the icy cold water of the river, luckily after a while I had the promotion and they handed me the keys of the place. I never appreciated so much the kettle.
Determined to face my fears, thanks to the confidence that a tall guide can give, I made the Via Ferrata, which is a climbing from the canyon, with iron ladders and iron curb. Assuming that I did a little effort and have been helped by Djevad, the mountain's gentle giant, (he also a little wiser) I was very pleased by the landscape, even though I never watched it but I enjoyed every digging of rock.
And here the second mystery of Blagaj, the mystery of dead snails. It seems that in this canyon, come the snails in the process of dying, like the elephants, soil covered by mellow empty snails or another logical explanation for hundreds of snail shells, is that Alen,
come here at night to capture them and add them as a secret ingredient in his cooking dishes. Never ask the cook the recipe, you may be surprised.

In this multi-purpose center, I was introduced to climbing, on a fake wall. If before I boasted of having climbed 5b in Greece, on this wall I'm a duffer, I think they have done something wrong, they even arranged a competition of climbing and no one was able to get to the top, not even the most skilled climber in all Bosnia succeeded .
During the competition I was promoted to a higher level, official photographer, even if sometimes I was distracted, you know I was also part of the public relations.
From here I take with me, the onion soup cooked on the stove, the coffee with the sugar cubes, the laughter, the soothing silence, the melancholy songs, the water of Buna, the serious speeches and the funny ones, a copy of keys and the fourth mystery .... but Ado, what kind of job he does?
The human face is like the black box of the aircraft, records the feelings that have marked our lives.( Mauro Corona)



Dalla vetta non si va in nessun posto, si può solo scendere. (da Nel legno e nella pietra)
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