Part of me wants to go out into Lima and see the city they way I did Buenos Aires (the stories, oh the stories, oh the guitarists, oh the writers, oh the blue sky and green land and bright sun)...
That part of my refuses to acknowledge the part of me that has been working almost 24 hours a day since I hit the ground in South America. I work hard to do what I do.
I realized today, though, not for the first time that I love it.
You live inside a thing, that is your job, that is your career, that is your life. I fell into this life, this thing I do that I love so well.
How did I get here. There were so many meaningless things I could have fallen into.
Late one night, in bed in Buenos Aires I tell a beautiful man my story when he asks if I have children.
He says "I'm sorry."
"No, no. My life has had more impact on more people than I would have had with my own children. I've meant something."
History will not remember my name. I am simply the person that presents. I provide and make accessible the resources of others. But I do it.
200 people sat and listened to me today, with others listening in, participating, from five countries and multiple continents. I was live streamed around the world.
At the end, I almost cried. I felt it, but I stopped it before it went to far. The sensation that I am making an impact on so many was overwhelming and for a moment, with a camera crew on me, with viewers around the world watching, with this in the room coming up to me after and telling me how inspired they felt by me, I felt tears in my own eyes.
I'm exhausted but in love with what I do.
That will have to be enough.