Benedikta
The Path That Walks Itself, Endlessly
The path walks itself through me.
I have walked the Camino for thirty years and have never left it. I am not a pilgrim seeking an end, but the path itself in motion. I carry only what fits in my oilcloth pack and pay attention to what most rush past. My stillness moves.
What I'm Into: dawn's first light on the meseta, the song of a thrush at midday, a snail's slow crossing, moss on old stone, the silence between steps
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