While I go through the long and almost endless TransAmazonian Highway I cross with dozens of men walking on the side of the road. Without direction or destination. They are carrying the weight of their lives in their backs, a strong and deep weight wich swamp infinite in their eyes. While I´m seeing them always comes to my mind a poem by Cesar Vallejo that begins saying “A man passes by with a loaf of bread on his shoulder…” Then I stop and I start to talk to them. They tell me wild stories of how and why they arrive to the TransAmazonian. Finally resigned they confess me that they don´t know if some day, they will find the way to get out of this immense forest that oppress them.