A few months back, after stepping off a sailboat from Colombia to Panama, I met a man in the coastal town of Portobelo. His name was Jack, and he ran a hostel there. Jack is in his sixties now. He has the air of a man at peace with himself.

I Met A Man In Isfahan

First in Dublin, as I was heading out the door, an old teacher bought me dinner, appearing as he never had before. I met a man in Durham, also working on a dream. Not long after he took the leap. He’s now in Medellín. I met a girl in Amsterdam, and I can’t forget her eyes. We laughed and we kissed and we rode our bikes, beneath those clear Dutch skies.