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I’ve always liked to think of myself as color-blind when it comes to people. I love the fact that as I cycled from the northernmost point to the southernmost point of this still very much segregated—and incredibly hospitable—country, I felt I was transcending racial lines. I would befriend a black cleaning lady one day and a white landowner the next. But when the sun started going down and I could not find a secure place to pitch my tent, why, if I had the choice, did I ask the person that looked most like me for shelter? | ||
-Yannick |