Short Fiction: Altiplano

There was another kind of traveler in Latin America. We were quieter, didn’t take pictures, and never discussed future plans.

By David Bassano,

That last summer in Mexico I was in the altiplano, or high plains, where the peyote grows. There were little villages of adobe here and there among the Joshua trees and hippies from Europe looking for peyote in the dry scrub brush. I considered going out to find some, but wasn’t really in the mood.

I’d been all over Latin America that ye…