Bus terminals, they often appear as the fag ends of your trip. You turn up with all your gear, you get a seat (if your lucky), and think about the sleepless night ahead of you. Your time there isn't planned, before you embark on an adventure like this, you don't sit around a table and ponder the wonders of Cordoba Bus Terminal. But when it comes around, and you spend as much time as I have sat glaring at ticket counters and dusty marble floors, the wonders of them are obvious. The fluidity of people is abundant and the liminal nature of terminals brings out an honesty in people that is addictive. Julian approached me and Dec as we sat on our bags looking out at the Cordoba skyline, he was tall, skinny, and although probably
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