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We had been running through the jungle for almost 3 hours now. While on the move, the People of the Anaconda do not walk, nor do they rest, drink or eat—and they certainly don’t wait on you. Yet the armed indigenous man escorting us had stopped. He was staring down at a fresh boot print in the mud. He looked troubled. The young Barra woman accompanying us bent down to take a closer look. A single, chilling word came out of her mouth: “guerrilla”. Suddenly, the jaguar tracks we had just passed were the least of my worries. | ||
-Yannick |
AMAZING – AS ALWAYS!
Holy shit! Your trips are insane… :O
waouhhh!!!quel périble…
je rentre d’Inde ou ce fut beaucoup plus calme.
Gobizzz
Yannick,
Always enjoy your posts.
Excellent stuff!
N.