ayahuasca in Pisac, and three job offers
I went to Peru to disappear for a while — and came back lighter, and somehow employed.
I came with no real plan. A month with the Amazon on one end and the Sacred Valley on the other, and a lot of unstructured time in between — enough to find out what was left of me when the noise went quiet.
In Pisac I sat for ayahuasca. I won't flatten it into a lesson here; some nights rearrange you in ways you only understand months later. I went looking for an edge and found a floor instead — something steadier underneath all the searching.
Then the work found me.
I'd told everyone, plainly, what I was looking for — and one after another, three part-time web3 gigs arrived while I was still out there in the jungle and the mountains. It's the same engine that's run my whole life: say the want out loud, and the doors start opening on their own. Peru is where that stopped being a theory.
Machu Picchu at the end felt less like a finish line than a piece of punctuation. A full stop on one version of me, and the first word of the next.
A living page — more photos, fragments, and sharper memories may arrive here over time.
