It’s funny how much life on the road shifts your priorities. Back home, I might have daydreamed about a hot shower or a cozy campsite with running water. But out here? No. Those luxuries are distant memories, abstract concepts that feel like they belong to another universe. Right now, all I want is a river.
A river isn’t just water—it’s salvation. It’s a bath, a washing machine, a dishwasher, and a drink all rolled into one. I don’t need tiled floors or warm water pressure (though I won’t say no); I just need something that moves, sparkles, and carries the dust away.
With a river, I can wash the red dust from my skin, my clothes, and my gear. I can feel somewhat human again, if only for a fleeting moment. The beauty of a river is that it doesn’t care how filthy you are, how much mud you drag in, or how long you linger. It simply flows, taking away your worries and dirt without complaint.
I can hang my laundry on a tree branch, sit on the bank, and let the sun dry everything—the clothes, my skin, my soul. And I can filter the water and then drink it. Agua es vida. Water is life.
So here I sit, bumping along these brutal red roads, dreaming not of civilization but of the most simple and pure gift nature can offer. A river. Just one river.
Oh, and wifi.