Miles and Magic

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Buenos días!” The scruffy tent zips open and a sunburnt face peeks in through the fly sheet. Before I’m able to mutter any decent reply, he places two cups of coca tea at the edge of my sleeping bag and takes off. It’s 2:30 AM. In the darkness of another cold Peruvian night, I start rummaging through the mixed pile of dirty clothes and camping gear next to me.

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