I’m not sure when it happened, when that choice of direction took hold of me again. I can narrow it down to my time in La Mosquitia. Maybe it was when I was swimming with the kids in the river reflecting on a moment when I was younger and life was a void waiting to be filled; maybe it was reading my book to candlelight and losing concentration every few sentences by the field of fireflies performing their twilight dance; maybe it was the front teeth missing smile of one of my guides poling (yes I said poling) me UP the Platano that toothless smile flashing at me every time we went through a section I felt was literally impossible to perform; maybe it was drinking cafe negro with and listening too Don Luis tell stories of a time that was and in my opinion a time that still is in the La Mosquitia. I don’t know. But it happened there. A choice was made.