After a little more than three months, I hopped on my bike and began to ride again. I suppose that I expected some awkwardness or weird feeling that I shouldn't be doing what I was doing. Instead, this was my first thought: "It's like riding a bike again."
I didn't feel--nor do I still--any nostalgia for this trip. There was no excitement when I started pedaling. No awe. Just movement. I’ve been reminded that this project is bigger than me. It’s about the stories of the people of the borderlands, whose voices are often not heard. This is a project about farmers and post office workers, migrants and priests, sons and schoolteachers--their lives, their stories, their loves, their losses.
This is a project for you. If you can’t come to the border, I’ll bring it to you. You deserve to hear from the people along the border.
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