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One was missing. The last. On the last frontier, I thought. What story will I hear? What life experience to collect, lessons to take after 19,763 km of journey?  

After a stretch with a lot of freezing rain, numb fingers and very cold, I meet a man with a serene, shy, contemplative look at a tourist support station, looking at the vast green meadow from the top of a viewpoint. I told him my story and he his.  

I listened carefully and was amazed. His story had the same essence as the first one, back in Corumbá, Mato Grosso. A guide, the climatic difficulties and the passion for what he did. If in Brazil, Mr. Wilson glimpsed the arid landscape, there at the opposite end, that gentleman contemplated with the same expression the rain that did not stop. In the eyes of both, the wait, without losing the passion for the craft.  

This final image helped me to close this trajectory and reflect even more on the distances, on what separates us and what can unite us.