Carlos takes us on a driving tour of La Paz. His wife and young son come along for the ride. Each and every time his son spots a truck he yells “camion!” as if it is the first time in his life he’s seen such an extraordinary sight.
I walk past the La Campana gatehouse and down the red brick alley between private residences and an internet cafe. I enter the darkened, empty building and ascend to the second floor. And I wait.
Someone turns a light on.