One Hundred Hours of Solitude
After almost nine months of traveling together, Ania and I decided it would be healthy to split up for a week or so. The aim was to recover our psychological equilibrium through independence or something like that.
Ania went east to glitzy Cochabamba and I went south to dusty Oruro. I wandered through windy street markets in the poor, miserable, almost lost mining city of the Altiplano. Maybe it was the low temperatures, maybe it was the high altitude, but the level of poverty present in a region so rich with precious metals was hard to take.
So much so, that I barely took photos. Sometimes, there are few differences between photographers and vultures.
At night, I went to bed to the sound of the neighbors fucking. “Damelo! Damelo! Damelo!” the woman would scream. It was the same in the early morning.
I slept in my jacket and wool hat from Ecuador. It was an especially cold period in the journey.
Oruro, Bolivia - © Diego Cupolo 2012