Go ahead, take your shoes off and walk toward the beach. This way your head won't heat up along the path." Kai begins to walk. Sol had been wandering for months in a speculative postnatural expedition when she met him on the littoral of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta. They could see the mountains on the horizon from the accidented landscape. As they walk toward what had been Palomino village, planty growths along the way burst of light as Kai pronounces what seem to be their names in diverse Indigenous and Spanish voices or tonalities, yet not only. 1 Grandson of three people and of three Indigenous women with tumbaga traits hardened by that wild and inexpugnable maternity of the mountains, Kai speaks with a serious yet serene expression. His fingers move, animated by quasi-autonomous flying colors, weaving macramé butterflies with yellow, green, and purple waxed threads tying three ancestral worlds and well beyond their vague thresholds, surpassing ephemeral asphalt roads, extractivist mining companies, and the anthropo-scenic 7G gibberish of Colombian towns and villages. Kai looks young, yet also seems to have no age and no interest knowing what it would be."Kogui and Iku Nations have not disappeared, nor has the Wayúu Nation or the Molilones Nation. They thrive as the Sierra Nevada, Macuira mountains, and the Perijá mountain range do as well, three mountainous motifs entangled in the same mesh of continuous growth."Then he explains that the three mountainous universes and their living creatures are sensors of frequencies where world-becomings inscribe themselves in subtle traces, variegated information piercing thought, a buzzing triggering the activity of a kind of living seismograph.
***The road meanders below toward Palomino River. They slowly enter in the fresh current of the river, its vibrations and tempos overtake them in a wavy manner. The surrounding trees shudder with the lukewarm breeze of the river, bringing forth the textility 2 of the world made up of the thought of its living.Taken by the river currents, they feel an oceanic flux in waves, circumvolutions, spirals-a fluid, ubiquitous and exponentially multiple center of the world that is both everywhere and nowhere, never pinned to the earth, neither as a menhir nor an obelisk, always in-between ebb and flow. Elemental powers assemble beyond a linear vision of time, where ancestralities and actualities meet without losing their momentum. Sol perceives Kai in-between matrix forces, dressed in artisanal wefts made and embroidered by his three ancestral worlds and sending back in numbered motifs to the tissue of the world's thought: a sort of cross sea in waves (olas de pensamiento), ever on the point of breaking to surf and tap into for potentials already there as well as always unfolding in unsuspected new ways. 3 Kai explains: "The first to arrive to this world were Wayúus. They transformed themselves into clouds, rain, rock, plants, mountain, sun, stars, and wind, bringing balance and imbalance. We are also Wayúus, and it is not clothin...