I dumped the majority of my worldly possessions in 2007 after deciding to become a nomad. I felt liberated. It was like cleaning up a part of my life that I didn’t know was a mess.
I happened to be on campus yesterday to watch a concert, though the graffiti and artwork captivated me instantly and re-sparked my interest in the fight. I think the photos speak for themselves.
I was less like a kid in a candy store and more like a crack addict in an unarmed cocaine lab. I greedily passed from stand to stand, slurping up all the free samples I could get my hands on – about six in an hour.
Women stuffed in skinny jeans a size too small clack by in heels that would be out of place in any other small town outside of Colombia. Farmers in mud-splashed gumboots wheel their bikes past taxi drivers racing around town, singing along to ranchero music blasting out of their cars.
I thrive on freedom and enjoyed the independence immensely. So when this family invited me to live with them a couple of months ago, I had my reservations.