After setting out from the Arctic Ocean, the number one question I was asked en route from Alaska to Argentina was: “How are you getting around the Darién Gap...
Rain dashed upon the glass and steel canyon-streets of London, drumming against the concrete walls that rose from the riverbank, high above the ancient...
““But now, we are walking backwards until we collide. We are talking of women and their men, of the wall, of the weather. Of us. “Does it trouble you too?” I ask.”