Time continues to slow to a crawl. I’m stuck in my head. I can’t see a way out. I realize at this point I have no escape. I can only think of one option. Honesty is my Hail Mary. Honesty isn’t an exploitable weakness here, it’s the perfect retaliation. It’s the antithesis of their game, it allows me to run in the opposite direction of where they want me to go. But I need to be stubborn.Read more "From Nepal – The Artist (Part Two)"
“I need to go to an ATM,” I say to the Nepalese man whose name I’ve long forgotten. “Yes, we will go,” assuring me as we start walking from what he told me was his art school. This is probably not the conversation I should be having with someone I just met an hour before.Read more "From Nepal – The Artist (Part One)"
This is where I see a man in my periphery, as my eyes darting back and forth trying to get a hold of the situation, look behind him across the street then he looks at me and says “Stephan?” But I don’t notice where he was looking at or why he did it; the mob he is a part of is distracting and it gets lost in the static of the situation.Read more "From Nepal – On Arrival"