"Don't," she said.
"You can't navigate with intuition," she said, crossing a river in Bolivia that wasn't on any digital map. agnessa and juan
"And yet," Juan replied, "here we are."
"Don't what?"
For three weeks, they spoke in fragments. She told him about the winter her father left for Antarctica and never came back. He told her about the year he spent alone in the Patagonian ice fields, listening to the sound of glaciers calving into the sea. She learned that he played the harmonica badly but with great feeling. He learned that she cried only when she saw guanacos, for reasons she could not explain. "Don't," she said
It was cold. She drank it anyway.