Juanita Escobar, Colombia
My thirst for land resonated in this plain. You must hold on to its bucking heart and learn to sing and feel and understand it through its poets and minstrels. I also dreamt of being a troubadour, like the mythical Florentine, “Cantaclaro” who, horse bound, sang verses about the flatlands. I also dreamt of moving from job to job, cattle herd to cattle herd, crossing through swollen rivers and dust. I also dreamt of love scattered on the range, of friends and families, the affect become reason to approach certain rivers and plains. I dream of turning my wanderings into my place.
My heart learned to light up like the stag’s sun.