Description
For several days, I returned to the same place, drawn by a quiet presence—the Baguales, the wild horses of Tierra del Fuego. Sometimes they appeared, sometimes they vanished, leaving only the whisper of their passing in the wind.
Each time they emerged, I inched closer, hoping to understand their rhythm, their world. But they remained elusive, slipping through the vastness of the pampa like ghosts of the land.
Then, on a day that felt empty, when I thought they had moved on for good, they revealed themselves once more—not lingering this time, but crossing the plains with purpose, searching for something beyond my knowing.
They were not wanderers. They were The Pathfinders—leading, seeking, belonging to a journey only they understood.