The People of Colombia

Colombia feels like a dream. Already two years ago as of writing (Sept 2024).

Six months in a small ex-mining town, San Rafael, on the edge of the jungle.

Three hours by bus away from Medellin. The kind of place that people ride their horses up to the bar for a drink, and often don’t dismount (see photos).

A curious blend of religious, traditional hard men and women, and younger progressive spiritual tourists and settlers. It was absolutely the right place at the right time for me to be there, a time of deep, deep wounds that needed time and space and silence to heal, which I was given.

I lived about 4 miles away from the town, down a long, dry, rocky dirt road. Internet was beamed via a dish with line of sight over the nearby mountain, we were about 2 miles out of phone signal range.

Heavy rain resulted in downed power lines and landslides. I haven’t lived in a region before where I was days without power. I remember running two miles down the road and crouching on a dirt road corner to grab a bar or two of phone signal, where I would set up my impromptu office for an hour or two, to attempt to continue to conduct client work until the power trucks rolled down the dirt track and repaired the lines again.

These photos were taken during visits to the mining town with my Canon M200, and first learning experiences with Luminar Neo.