I live in the forests of Peru, on a mountain slope leaning towards the VRAEM.

My name is Abimael Guzman. I'm 58 years old.

I believe in taking care of myself, in a balanced diet, in a rigorous exercise routine. In the morning, if my face is a little puffy, I'll pack snow on my face while doing my stomach crunches. I can do a thousand now.

After I brush off the snow, I use a smuggled-in deep-pore cleanser lotion. In the shower, I use a gel cleanser looted off of a counterrevolutionary union organizer.

Then a ceviche-scented bodyscrub. And on the face, an exfoliating gel-scrub. Then I apply an quinoa-based facial masque, which I leave on for ten minutes while I prepare the rest of my routine.

I always use a beard conditioner with little or no alcohol, because alcohol dries your face out and makes you look older. Then moisturizer, then an anti-aging eye balm, followed by a final moisturizing protective lotion.

There is an idea of a Chairman Gonzalo. Some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me. Only an entity-- something illusory.

And though I can hide my cold gaze...

and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours...

and maybe you can even sense our ideologies are probably comparable,

I simply am not there.