Miltos Manetas

Miltos Manetas, Mount Conero, July 2010

I remember everything. I lost my grip on the rock and slowly started falling backwards. Two seconds of slow falling and then I accelerated. Every detail is time-stamped on me. The first four seconds I was mad with disbelief  — so suddenly upset by destiny — and annoyed that my crazy plan of arriving at the beach by descending the impossible surface of the very steep rock wasn’t working out. By the fifth second I was falling fast, very fast. Seconds six, seven, eight — I could only see a void and the edge of rock about 30 meters away. I thought — no, I knew — I was about to die. Nine, ten seconds pass. But I couldn’t see the other side of the rock. Eleven seconds! I land on my ass on a…