It’s hard for me to find a way to describe the beauty of what happens on many nights during my walk, when I crawl into my sleeping bag and wait for sleep to crash down on me. I’m not overly poetic, and I don’t pretend that I have any skill in that department, it always seems . . . → Read More: night poem
|
||||||
|
He popped his head out of the gray cement rectangle that held the showers and bathrooms. “I’ll be right with you folks”. Marieke and I sat down on the rickety bench in front of the house. We’d stopped here because we needed water and this was, supposedly, the only store in the area. It didn’t look like . . . → Read More: DON COCO Peru. It’s done. 3200km of pavement, dirt, stone, gravel, sand and dust. I know her intimately now. I’ve traced her spine with my feet. I’ve sunk into her valleys and lost my breath at her heights. I’ve seen and felt her moods, how she can be: capricious, warm, complex, varied, voluptuous, mysterious, changeable, humid, verdant, frigid. . . . → Read More: Peru, a wrap up |
||||||
|
Copyright © 2012 ANOTHER DAY - All Rights Reserved |
||||||
what’d you say?