I feel this pen and paper are my only friends right now. 22 days left to go. That’s a long time it seems. I think I’m going to have to make an outcry for funds. I haven’t quite given away how low I am on them. It will be a shameful blog for me to post it it comes to that, which it probably will. I would camp out if I could but I don’t think there are any safe places to do so. This trip is becoming more of a burden to me than anything. I’m quite worried of being stuck out here. Someone has to help me from back home though, right? I’m a fool for taking this trip and thinking everything would go as planned. It almost feels like a bad dream right now. Without money this trip is no longer fun, it is simply a slap to my face. I just wish that someday something will finally turn out right for me.
I remember how lonely that hostel was. Way up on what might as well been a fucking mountain seeing that the cab couldn’t get up to the top. I had to reiterate that story due to the fact that I still can’t believe it myself. It was in the outskirts of the city of Cuzco. It was a nice view, I can say that and it was a cheap, yet very nice, quaint room but the lack of social life there made me quite lonely. The fact is that my pen and paper were my only friends at that moment. If you’ll gather anything from this trip, it was what I can only describe as bi-polar as things take an interesting turn in the next few days…
For the Generous
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