I won’t die as someone who was tormented by life.

Mayan fires rise from the hills surrounding the lake day and night. The indigenous Quiche burn things to live while tourists speed around the water on motorboats, zipping from one lakeside hippie town to another. We buy their jewelry and fabrics.

Maybe this was the last time I felt alive. I stood on the bow of a passenger ship we had chartered for just the two of us and watched…