Occasionally everyone is rocked by events not just beyond control, but beyond understanding. I lost the illusion of safety on a sweaty day in Bogotá, Colombia.
We were driving not so much on a road but an infected cut on the skin of the jungle, which was always trying to heal the wound. The jungle itself loomed on either side of the road, staring back at me to show that it was the panther and I the hare.
The jeep leapt and bound over the broken terrain. In the back of the jeep I was tossed about like an ice cube in a martini shaker. The two men in the front of the jeep were discussing something in Spanish; they seemed worried, so I asked them what was happening.
…
