Sometimes we forget to see that each day breathes beauty. I’ve found that in these blind, forgetful times the wind whispers secrets that carry us to places where we are reminded to look. Poste Rojo was just such a secret.
Time spent here felt like a gift, a secret hideout with an ever rotating kaleidoscope of characters, each a beautifully worn soul with mountains of stories to share. All the right pieces fell together while swinging mornings by in a hammock, and rambling late into the evenings with former strangers. I felt like myself in this treehouse, like I could have stayed tucked away in the jungle in Nicaragua for a lifetime. How sweet it is to feel at home when home is half a world away.