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Morning Mist
As I walked down the path, the village emerged from the jungle before me. Mushroom-shaped huts with thatched palm leaf roves and mud walls peacefully slept in the evening mist that hung in the air. I was breath-taken by the tranquil beauty. My relief to have finally arrived, intact, was indescribable, though there was still things to do before I could pass out in my newly appointed hut. We unpacked the mule and headed directly for the river to wash off the grit from our journey. I took off my sweat-drenched clothes and waded into a small cove of the icy river. My skin felt electric, but I had the horrible sensation that the small larvae in my legs were burrowing deeper to escape the cold. It really didn’t bother me at the time, I was just flooded with gratitude to God that we had finally made it, and soon I would be curled up in my hammock next to a warm open fire.
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