"In the desert you can't remember your name 'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain ...", sang America in the 60s. Nothing has changed because the desert is eternal.
Sam Saraindead, a French tax exile, lives hidden under a false identity in the depths of the arid lands of New Mexico. Good rider, and musician, he circulates anonymously among the earthy fauna of the natives, mostly marginalized or excluded, marijuana traffickers, or even migrant retirees in mobile homes in search of the cheap sun at Slab City. Sam thought he was safe from everything, but a terrible tragedy precipitated him into a frantic flight through the middle of the canyons to save a dear friend. This journey will become, over the days, an actual initiatory teaching which will lead the narrator to espouse little by little the Amerindian cause and the vision of the world of these peoples whose magical thought and shamanic practices remain alive in the face of the ukases of an American society that has become inhuman and oppressive. A plea and an observation in the form of a dark thriller.
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