When he had found the perfect place on her shoulder to rest his chin, he gazed out through her eyes to the wisps of smoke drifting hazily along the grassy Angolan horizon. His hands found the perfect spot to rest, rising and falling on her soft belly. He listened with care to each word she said as they filled up the space between them with idle thoughts and fanciful dreams.

The path between us is always muddy and full of bitterness

A stalled signature in Angola led to a lunch of fish, a story of civil war, and a lesson about listening.

On a hot Colombian day in June of 1991, Adriana and I took a bus from Bogota to Neiva. An old man with a camera taught me something about connection that day, something I still carry with me wherever I go.

A patient from Guatemala couldn't express her pain in words. But a simple drawing, a willingness to listen, and follow-up care led to a moment that changed everything—including my career.