I feel my nostrils close with the icy air from "summary" of The Bolivian Diary by Che Guevara
As the biting cold of the high altitudes seeps into my bones, I am acutely aware of how the frosty air pierces through every layer of clothing, sending shivers down my spine. The thin mountain air seems to freeze the very breath in my lungs, making each inhalation a struggle against the frigid temperatures that threaten to overwhelm me. I can feel the icy tendrils of the air creeping up my nostrils, causing them to constrict and making each breath feel like a sharp intake of frozen needles. The sensation is jarring, a stark reminder of the harshness of the environment I find myself in. The struggle for each breath becomes a battle against nature itself, as I fight agains...
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