I still remember the smell of arepas on the morning my life changed. I was 13 years old when my mother and I, along with a group of people we barely knew, began the journey of leaving our country. I did not fully understand what was happening, but I could feel it — in my mother's silence, in the way the adults moved fast, like something was pushing them forward. The journey was not easy. There were storms along the way, and a long, tiring walk that tested every step. The hardest moment came when we were left behind on a mountain trail, with night almost upon us. I was scared. The jungle felt heavy and dark, full of sounds I did not know. But somehow, we kept going. We found our way out — tired and shaken, but safe. That experience never left me. I learned that even when things fall apart, even when the path disappears and the light fades, you kee ...