(Post translated by M. da Silva from Spanish Despidiendo a PERDIDOS)
Rustles in the jungle. A man walks wearily with a hand holding his crimson tainted side. His face twists in pain. A few more steps and he lets himself fall on the grass over the fertile land that changed his life forever. He closes his eyes for an instant. A golden retriever barks and approaches. Vincent licks his battered face and lies by him. His eyes remember in satisfaction and close under the intense tropical light. Eyes, lights, dreams. The End of a story, the beginning of a memory.
The last episode of LOST. The show that accompanied us during six springs, with its exotic plots, its betrayals and allegiances, its dramatic scenes and, most of all, with the story of a group of disenchanted characters redeemed through the strength of a single emotion, love. Love for a group of friends with whom to share happiness and sorrow, love for the perfect partner found in the deepest confines of the jungle. The mystery of life condensed in the form of an island lost somewhere in the Indian Ocean, or better yet, in the Pacific, in Hawaii, where this mythical show was filmed.
I stroll on beaches dreamed up by image visionaries Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse alongside the Oceanic 815 survivors. Beaches of sparkling white sands bathed in perfect water. Sets, cameras, directors and above all an incredible group of actors, have all left its confines. Not so our memories of these primordial lands. What better place to build the dream of a sideways world. The world of LOST. I now say goodbye to it in tears of longing and gratitude. Aloha.
LOST, The End.