Those guys from Ghana can run all day. Dang.

Today tying up loose ends at home with school stuff. Still packing the last bits and pieces. I realize I am close to the edge, emotionally.

Three days ago, a Mack truck got on my butt, about 2 inches from my rear, and honked at me at a red light. Unhesitatingly, I shoved the car into PARK, stomped up to the front of this giganto metal thing with traffic at a standstill, and read the bastard the riot act. Some people were yelling things out their car windows but it was so heated I couldn’t even hear them.

At 61 I refuse to eat it.

Mauro, my Peruvian guard and photo assistant, called today, wanting to know how we were going to solve the transportation issue, how we would get to the outlying towns where the circuses might be. Taxis is the best way  I told him but I would prefer to work on that once I am down there, rather than get someone now. I’d rather have someone different all the time who has no idea where we are going. Safer.

Published by

liese ricketts

photographer, closet writer, mother, grandmother, hermit.