WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 20 — My knees are shaky and the ground feels like water.
About 6:15 a.m., I am bent over, digging through my bag in the dark, looking for food to take with me on the day’s excursion when the ground starts moving.
I think I’m dizzy, hallucinating. I think it’s me, not the earth under my feet.
I look down at my toes, just laced up in boots. I look to my right where a fan sits, staring for seconds — what feels like minutes — at the blades of the fan, then my toes, moving fluidly but not in sync with the walls.
Is it my stomach? Sleep deprivation? Typhoid?