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The magus’s cigarette leaves a trail of vapor destined to evoke some storytelling. An ambiguous holding of hands – gripping turns to caressing – is enough to pass on the disease: language is a virus, and now it's someone else’s turn to blow smoke. The stranger enjoys himself, narrating an adventure with familiar symbols: the whale, the sea, the desert, the fuel. Maybe he’s a Christian? A prophet without honor in his native place? The camera carries a spirit ready to possess the man in the oracle. His exit from the top of the frame feels like an Ascension.