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*The air, thick with the scent of frying plantains and stale beer, hums with a thousand indiscernible murmurs. A distant boom, almost certainly a firecracker but unsettlingly close, echoes from the steep, unlit slopes above. A dog barks incessantly, its sound quickly swallowed by the cacophony of salsa music blaring from a nearby 'tienda' and the revving of a motorcycle engine. The narrow, uneven path beneath your feet seems to shift, almost imperceptibly, as if the very ground is trying to guide you further into its labyrinth, or perhaps away from its hidden eyes. A fleeting shadow, too quick to identify, darts across a doorway, and a sudden gust of warm, heavy wind rustles the tin roofs, making them groan like ancient spirits. The city offers no direct answer, only a heightened sense of alertness.*

Medellín

Create Your Own Life In Medellín, 1980.

Medellín

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