Clouds surround the sun. But the sun seems intent and insistent on coming out. Frankly, we don't want it to come out for now. No matter how much blessing it bestows on us, we pray that it does not come upon us for the time being. The clouds are attacking with all their might. Let's reach a hill first. We are almost there.

In front of me are the guerrillas Zinarîn and Medya, climbing with keffiyeh around their necks. They are the guides of life. They have umbrella covers on their backs that they sewed by hand. I learned later that they fill them with bread and water. They are always cautious. Zinarîn is from Mardin and Medya is from Kobanê. Two daughters of the people of Kurdistan brought together by the mountains.

Zinarîn touches a rock that catches her attention. It is clear that she attached meaning to that rock. What drew her to that rock? As if caressing a face, as if reminiscing a memory, as if talking to a martyred comrade... She preferred to confide her secret to the rock.

With Medya in the lead, we climb another cliff. And all the hills stretch out in front of us. Because we are at the top. The guerrillas love the hills, the cliffs on the hills, walking on the rocks, singing songs and reminiscing.

Both guerrillas are sitting. They are looking at the hills, the stones, the trees, the rocks, the mountains, and the row of hills in front of them. They must be tired because they stopped. I took a breath, otherwise it would have been impossible to keep up with the guerrillas...

The sky has started to turn blue, now it's turning red. The sun is about to leave behind the hills.  It's looking for another way to shine its rays on the earth.

I sat down behind a rock, to rest. Lying down would probably be the best action right now. Yet, it's not possible. It takes no more than five minutes for a guerrilla to rest. No matter how tiring the commute is, the rest is a short period of time.

The darkness of the cliff is reflected in the lens. The sky above us is blue. There is a preparation for rain in the sky, a wind is blowing. We feel all the sounds of nature better because we are on the hill.

Both guerrillas took a walk down memory lane. They have their weapons on their knees. They have a long look towards Zap. Facing Zap, the stronghold of resistance...