Technology made it all possible. Technology permitted me to fly to Costa Rica--a fine quirk of language--technology permitted an airplane to fly me to Costa Rica, permitted me to ride in a landcruiser up a pitted, sinuous road beyond San Jose de la Montana and Sacramento until the Catholic surface petered out and the ancient path began. Technology permits me to type these letters in the newsroom, and you to read them on a distant monitor. But it's not technology--this faith is oxygen, the air I breathe--that enables me to go on struggling up the cloud forest in my mind. Only something deeper and richer and larger than the Web--the power of language, story, imagination--does that.
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