Hey everyone. It is me Dylan. It is Tuesday and every Tuesday this month we have

been featuring an essay from the journal Off Assignment. Today's essay is a letter to a stranger. I think

you'll like it. It got me thinking about all of the strangers that I have encountered on various travels and I would love to hear

about your memorable encounters with strangers the strangers that live in your mind

long after you met them and traveled onward.

So if you have a story about meeting a stranger, a kind stranger,

a strange stranger, a stranger where you had a surprising coincidence.

Give us a call at 315992 792-902 and leave us a message telling us about an encounter with a stranger that you cannot stop thinking about. You can also record a voice memo

and email it to us at hello at atlasubscura.com. Now, Atlas Subsura goes off assignment.

Here's the episode. It was the end of July in the Borneo jungle, a place without clocks, days still guided by the sun's movements.

You were leaning against your rusted silver truck, wringing calloused hands together, a brimmer hat pulled down low.

I traveled by bus over the mountains from the town where I had been teaching English for the last eight months.

We were the first ones to arrive at the volunteer base.

A stilted wooden house burrowed a miss lush plant. We had little in common, you with your indigenous Dusun tongue,

me with my American Midwest twang, but we were both young and bold and had seen a local

NGO's Facebook plea for volunteers. The project in question used

waterfalls to create electricity in rural villages. We both wanted to

bring light. The mission director was an elderly and Malaysian man who spent his free time

voyaging on foot into the jungle, collecting seeds of rare flora and preserving them in his backyard.

Dotting his land were miniature palm trees, otherworldly orchids, and carnivorous pitcher plants.

We sat beneath the shade of big green elephant ears,

watching the other volunteers trickle in, a mix of peninsular Malaysians,

...