My thoughts trembled with the water, until Elise suddenly asked me: porque viajas solo? Why do you travel alone? Under that moonlit sky, my legs dangling over the ledge of a Mayan Itza home, in an obscure village in Guatemala, in a language that wasn’t my own, I could craft only a few words for an answer. No se, I said, la libertad . . . freedom. And I think she understood, for she flashed me her affectionate smile.
