Cold gusts of wind hit the back of my neck. Gunshots steal my attention from the viewfinder, and the poverty witnessed that night left me with a traumatized stare. Sauntering off into the labyrinth-like streets of Bogota, Colombia I find an empty road with an intimidating aura. I was profoundly intrigued by its solitude and decent colonial feel. I walked closer and closer to the road and realized there were eyes on me. I could feel them. It was a cold feeling rushing through my veins as if I was receiving an IV. I hear my breathing louder than ever and let my mind take a flight into the unknown. All I could think about was everything that happened on this street. The “First Kisses”, deaths, celebrations, up-bringing My mind travels back many summers to realize that I have been here before and I was back for something. But what?
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