It is March 13, 2021, and Camila and I are talking about her life in Medellín, the second largest city in Colombia. Due to the covid-19 pandemic, we are separated by about 9000 km, but with the use of Zoom I am right there in her living room. Family members that she is sharing her house with are walking by and at times make their opinion clear during the conversation. While it is only the first time we have spoken, Camila is an open book: she tells me about the difficult times she went through growing up during the peak of Medellín’s urban war, and enthusiastically explains her personal attempts at creating a more equal city. After her explanation that she would love to cycle to work, but cannot because of the many mountains, I am asking her “what does peace mean, to you personally?”. Immediately upon hearing the question Camila’s mood changes, she remains quiet for a while and then becomes emotional. While I offer to change the topic, she shakes her head and replies “it is just that there is no peace, we don’t live in peace”.