“Dear Mara, I have a faded fax that you sent me from the jungle of Chiapas. The words you wrote have melted into the yellowed paper with the years, along with the photo of Subcommondante Marcos on his horse and you holding his hand, smiling. Now, I can make out only shapes and outlines and in a few months, I think it will be gone. Do you remember how it began? It was 1993. I had been living in New York for a year.”
No Footsteps Remain: Letter to Mara Catalan by Laura Waddington