BY ELISA WIRKALA On a cold winter’s night in 2011, Shalmarie Wilson zipped up her jacket over the layers keeping her warm. She was tired after a long day of work, and looked forward to getting home. She slipped on her helmet and became distracted,
BY: ELISA WIRKALA The sounds and sights of the world passing by through the dingy bus windows were lost on me. My eyes were shut tight, body limp in the faded grey seat of the bus meandering through mountain villages.