Bolivian Air

To see the world in a cold morning dew, and heaven before a hard goodbye's tear, hold reflection in every blinding, white dune, and perfection in lethal, Bolivian air.

 

With a last look, the final winks of the sun swung and danced by the old, broken rail.


In these endless nights, my heart left a thin, red trail.

7:10PM I walked back to the hostel and Erin was not there.  I walked back to the station and had a burger with eggs for 5 BOBs.

8PM My bus left for La Paz.  There were many travelers on this bus: a cocky Irish boy, a nice Canadian girl, a couple of Brazilians who liked contacts over glasses.  They turned off the lights at 8:30PM.