In Colombia there are walking ghosts, people who have crossed death’s frontier. They’re still alive, but many of them wish they were dead. Living, as it stands, is a burden. They’re not suicidal. They’re just suffering because their enemies have them cornered. The time they have left is short, and they know it. They’re surrounded by threats and bodyguards. Not only is death beckoning but guilt. These walking ghosts live in a world of wakes and funerals. They have survived when so many others have perished. What’s left of them is often used to hasten the end, to take that final step into the other world. While some search for safety, most of them search for a perch where they can die with dignity. They would rather be considered martyrs than cowards.