Nearly 22,000 words and almost 400 photos lay behind me as we move down the road on our way to Tuxtla Gutiérrez.

Under those clouds, we’ll return from the Highlands of Chiapas to an airport that will whisk us away from one of the most meaningful experiences I’ll have had during my 50s. There’s no real way to encapsulate the impressions that sparked the lengthy writing about the previous week, nor will the photos offer you a glimpse into my depths that saw what can only be known with a firsthand investigation into something so far away from what would be my normal.

We leave the surface of the earth to put distance between us and an unimaginable experience that feels alien and not our own. The privilege of accessing such a tiny corner of our planet is nothing if not astonishing. The incredible fortune of granting ourselves these moments can be difficult to contextualize as to who among us has the tools to decipher things we hardly understand.

We fly over a world on fire, literally here over the mountains of Mexico and an ocean and continent away in Ukraine, but down in the crevices of nearly forgotten lands and people, life sustains itself.

We are already leaving Mexico City for the last leg of our journey home and wondering when we might return.

Until next time, Mexico, bye.

The radiant rainbow eye of the universe guides our plane home.

The moon reminds us of the pyramid at the top of the Avenue of the Dead at Teotihuacán and that someday we too will fade from existence like all things do, but until then, we’ll be embracing all that life has to offer and counting our lucky stars.