The bus doesn't seem to be going anywhere. I lower the window, looking for some point of reference, a colour, a shadow of life, to find only dust. There is nothing. An ochre, rocky plain, an overwhelming monotony divides the horizon in two: blue sky and brown earth. In the middle is the bus, persisting in its quest to discover some kind of wonder at the end of this gravel road of hope.

Four hours like this is enough to believe that, if something does appear, it will be a mirage. It is therefore hard to admit that the stunning mass of white light in the distance to the left is, in fact, a glacier...

Published in Viajes El Mundo