Pick a spot roughly 1000kms North-West of Vancouver. Now zoom in. Way in. It’s seven thirty in the morning, 3°c, raining, and if you look around this wild desolate place of acrid smelling rot & shredded wood, navigate the treacherous landscape of fallen trees & sharpened sticks, the rotting stumps, the swamps, the webs of…
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Cycling Sumbawa + Flores 2023
‘Kiri-kanan, kiri-kanan, kiri-kanan, kiri!’ It’s 0530, dark still. Ceci & I have stopped cycling to spy on a schoolyard. A sergeant is yelling in Indonesian, but the military singsong is impossible to miss. It’s the classic ‘Left-right, left-right, left-right, left!’ of a marching drill. The kids marching in line chant back in unison, matching the…