They drove north in the Chevrolet, which Juan had named La Paciencia . He was a geographer by training, a poet by accident, and a cartographer of forgotten things—abandoned railway stations, ghost towns, the graves of anarchists. His maps were hand-drawn on napkins, cigarette packs, and the inside of cereal boxes. Agnessa found this infuriating.
"Don't look at me like I'm already gone." agnessa and juan
"North is a straight line," she said.