“The stone was alive. Marble dunes. Waves of stone. The sacred mountains had to be climbed. Ayers Rock. Athos. Kilimanjaro. Fujiyama. I no longer knew who I was. I was delirious. It was because of that gold…It was not the gold of twilight nor the gold of autumn. Nor was it the precious metal that drags men to greed. No. It was another kind of gold. It was the sacred gold, the gold of the ancients, a telluric gold that arose as a tumor of the bowels of the earth and that could not be touched without being infected by its beauty.

Manuel Moyano