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Our water reserves were dropping fast and we knew we wouldn’t have enough to make it through the night. The last human settlement we had seen was 80km back and since then, nothing but dry bush, sand and rocks on this desolate stretch of road. I was hoping for a miracle of sorts, for a divine intervention to be exact. My eyes were scrutinizing the arid landscape for a statuette of Difunta Correa, the pagan saint of the desert. You see, it is customary for believers to leave water bottles as offerings at her many shrines. How very convenient. | ||
-Yannick |