I step out of the lodge into a cold, moonless night and walk to the water’s edge.
A single bulb outside the lodge winks out and I walk with care on an unpaved trail, feeling the darkness take shape around me.
When I travel to a new place, I look for local museums of history and culture. Objects displayed in a museum are curated to tell stories about the place and its people.
There is a photograph of me standing in the South African bush flanked by two rangers with old fashioned rifles. I am awkward and stiff but manage to smile for the camera.
