I have always found serenity in solitude. For me, three is a crowd. As much with family as among friends, I have always felt like the person who has … - Kilian Jornet

Usually, home is associated with a physical space, whether that is a building, neighborhood, town, city, or country; sometimes all that comes to mind are the four walls of a room. Home is where, when you walk in the door, you recognize the smell of clean clothes, stir-fry, or the scent of a field of wheat. It's the light that shines through the window each night, casting familiar shadows. It's waking up in the morning and walking around without needing to turn on the light. For me, however, all of these feelings are scattered since my home is a collection of specific spaces that make me feel good when I'm in them. I walk around La Cerdanya and suddenly feel at home, but the illusion disappears in the blink of an eye. I go back to Chamonix and the smell of fall welcomes me — I feel at home, but the spell is soon broken. In Nepal, too, the relaxed feeling of home sometimes takes hold of me for a moment. I can often feel more like I'm in my own place in some unknown country than when I'm in the house I've paid for and made my own, where some days I feel like a total stranger.

In the end, Above the Clouds is not about what I have achieved but about what I have experienced, about feeling at peace with my values when I do something and embracing the possibility of change and failure as a reward for my soul.

In federated sports, this performance is judged by rules and regulations. But in the mountains, these rules and regulations are meaningless. Mountains are (still) a space of freedom, where lawlessness reigns for the good of everyone.