On the last day of our three week stint at Sachaqa Centro de Artes in San Roque, we took the 25 ft plunge. We’d come to this place a week earlier, but nobody had the balls to do it. So we decided then we’d be back in a week. You know, mentally prepare for it.
It was time to honour ‘the pact’.
I was shit scared.
But that was nothing. I have a video of Dan posing like this for fifteen minutes, only to finally decide he’d come back another day to try again.
FIFTEEN MINUTES! Over 2 GB of data on my memory card. Sean’s face in the back says it all.
Then, as i climbed back up that cliff for a second attempt, i felt my left hand lighter, like something was off. And then i saw four rings i’ve had for almost ten years now, had gone underwater. Just like that, slipped off, to the base of the river, probably a few hundred meters downstream already. I searched for them frantically, given i’m more attached to junk jewellery than i am to people. Or maybe the rings reminded me of people from different phases in my life.
That’s when Orly said, ‘time to let it go’. I jumped again, this time with no rings.
Time to find new rings.
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