Let`s Say It`s Over

and maybe a lot of things will became crazy, as it usually happens with good things that I have seen until they tend to minus infinity. and what was so great thing about walkig so many km on foot? Nobody put you to do this except yourself. and what motivation and why. and what you have discovered during this trip. things that probably is much better to keep them for yourself when you see how can they be denatured by superficial people.

In the end everyone splashes with the same hammer of ignorance in the mud. For this, the only thing you need is to have two hands to keep it well and some mud to splash in it and spitts the others. So easy, right? Splish, splash, I will take a bath, home, alone in a Saturday night…

maybe it will be better to change your language, your country, and customs, business partners, or some stupid friends, piss on your professional critics, these miserable bookrats, no money, a lot of fucking frustrations, because you realise so clear that everything is in vain. and of course the worst is when I am talking in general. How many caskets so many flies. that`s what I like most in journalism, it presents and reveals facts as they are, with real people, real names, real situations. not bulshit. well, it`s not the time or place here.

and when I thought that I won`t meet other Romanians on the Camino, in Leon I pop up over two girls, one cute than the other, and after the whole month not talking in your language you feel a warm feeling of hapiness when you meet two other women, same country as you are, having the same experience. or, whatever, some common points in it. and what you know is that not the language in which you express counts, but what you transmit with your soul, or the remains of it. Those remains that you hope they are still there inaltered and for that you went on the fields to rebuilt them, because you could not touch the surface of things among so many stupid missadventures.

and although on this road the only thing you have learnt is to go further, because you don`t have other choice, sometimes when you go back, and put your foot again on the same stones, you realise that is pointless. I will never put my foot on the same road for the second time. what I had to see I already have seen, what I had to understand, I understood, and what was too much was too much. that even if you want disperately to escape from everything`s lace, even if you want out of certain happenings, you are just involved there and you don`t know how you ended like this and so on. And so on… it will be a lot of work to sort out things, maybe months, who knows. not years, for sure…

(Mariana, 32 years, lawyer)

(Dana, 32 years, lawyer)

Cross of Iron after Foncebadon.
Although I had nothing left there to become ice, or sheepfold stone, as is it seams to be pilgrims` custom, I wanted, but… anyway, I had nothing to lose, so… if something in my life has to finish then so be it without many flops or too many explanations. and faster, senior, fuck them once. to spread some indifference and cruel lucidity and no other vagaries. to make them hate me and reject me and to count in a passive way their reactions. to laugh about and say: another one cracked! hahahaha!!!

in Molinaseca I looked at the people how they were splish-splashing the river and I`ve heard them laughing. I wished for a moment to be in the middle of the water and probably if I knew how to swim I have thrown it, dressed like I was, from the bridge.

I arrived in Santiago last night again. small and cold drops of rain dancing in the air, it was so cold and the cathedral was so closed, so quiet and wet. and I said, well, it really was too much. too long. too much. and I don`t know what to do for the moment with all these. probably I will go forward. by train. by bus. air or on foot. Some people will be smacked on me and others will hit me back. So… What is more important? some will be happy with me, others completely miserable. I prefer the first ones, right? I can go with them on down steep slopes, or climb in eagles` nests, or smoking among some broken houses one or two cigarettes, before going further on our path.

In the end, we are just talking about some perceptions, obsessions in which you can not get out, fast decisions, or bad decisions, hard decisions or cruel decisions, being tired of this or that, the desire to get out of the routine that pulverise you, and then the reinvention, remodelling. or evolution. spiritual or not. – that`s why I do not believe in fair play. but in deeds. – that`s why some can`t see 50 meters further from their yard, and others will discern things `till the end of Earth and how everything smashes in tireness or incompentence. and then some people will struggle to come to terms with and some others, but not with themselves. some will be in line to receive pasca row, and others will stay behind to watch, considering themselves not saints enough to receive it. Santos y pecadores. Kings and beggars all in the same pot. in the same porridge. you may think you’re special in particular moments when you become lame. Nobody will tell you how you really are, especially when you don`t know yet, right? RIGHT…

Well, and then you are wondering where all those beautiful things that you were keeping hidden in a corner of your pillow were gone, you are wondering at night, those things that you were finding always there when you were needed, just before you fall asleep. strange things happens with people, but I know that they are made of rage, a blind and uncontrolled rage, and I say okay, someone was furious but over a year this rage will pass, and this someone will reach, unfortunately, as well as me to the conclusion that it was better this way. only for his own good, life punched him. and look how another beautiful toy who makes you happy disappears… forever.

(places I`ve been)

(catedrale from Astorga)

(Gaudi palace from Astorga)

As probably like I`ll ask myself after a while where were vanished my craziness, my fervour, my courage, my beautifull cruelty, and how I became so like a vegetable, no, it’s not the case now, but the world is changing and you can not be strong all the time, you can not understand all the time, you can not be there all the time, available, hunger to jump to help people, isn`t it? You are just a human been, that`s why, if you were an animal you had an excuse… remains only to remember the sunsets you admired from cabs, in the mornings, when you were running to unknown destinations, and no, I am not talking about stopovers, but something else, if the world is changing and no longer feels in unison with you, maybe it is because never was there? And not this thing makes life more beautiful?

(sunset in Lira, fishermen village 60 de km near to Finistere)

(silent boats)

Maybe not to hit the same rhythm of the heart, only to keep the same drolling for several seconds as 2, 3 or 10 years? And those lines and remarks arised from nowhere who can destroy everything, and crushes everything … the things that can not be forgiven.

you can give thirsty people water when they need, hungry people food when they need, care to the foreigners when they need, you can sting how many ampullas you want, and comfort hundreds of hot foreheads rounding under your fingers, you can smile in hundreds of ways to children, you get lose the pocket money from a public phone only to hear the voice of someone dear, and to do more than 800 km hell knows why, if not the hell, but I am telling you, there are some things that you can`t forgive. and you want… and you fucking try and you say: come on, I have to forgive, I must to forgive, and then you renonce to do that, you let them in the mud of indiferrence, the mud that I was talking earlier, in which, as everywhere, sun is shining in the same way…

think to all your broken love-stories and this is enough for you, time had run, you are no longer as ten years ago, and you still don`t get it, at least if you had learned the detachement, the breaking out, the breathing in, free elections… people like mirrors … I saw them and I am not comfortable with that and I only hope that I won`t get into a certain kind… the vitality that it was hung out of my ankles, climbing through stones and dust road, I won`t lose it for widgets, nor among the garbage… but how do I know how curses will came and what astral map will say, hahahahaha… and how all of the widgets can be lost big friendships, like I don`t know as well… but, for sure some people have more rights than others… is so easy to feel tricked and betrayed, I can make you ten scripts right now. no way, relax, I think I`ll keep them for better times.

I also think that what kept me stocked on the road was only this foolish issue, some state of grace of eaten km one by one just for curiosity: the next tree, the next village, the next bar, the next man, the next desire, following nausea, following state of grace, the next almost desperate running in the arms of happiness… or running out of…

How do you feel with the next secret you think you can broke and became powerful because you recognize in it the weakness of the despot that wants to revange his imaginary wounds made by himself?… You can give a grouty answer, like you will lie me or like I care. I just want to remain with the impression that certain music still sings for me, even if others they have been burried deep, because I liked myself exactly as I was then.

loving and confident in people. meaning naive. not to say fool. and if some are not, there will be others. It doesn`t mean that all are equally, but some you can love safely, and others only if you die slowly. I surelly prefer the first ones, because if I will drink with them late in the night, or in the afternoons, I know how beautiful they lull you, without bubbles in the corner of their lips or stupid reproaches. Also they know how to warm your freezing fingers when it`s cold outside, or how to embrace you when it`s raining hell out and you feel like a dog lost under some old wall of the church , opulente inside, but smelling like Nala and Damayanti outside, and some blood leaked through the recess` bricks.

Something happens, I said before. I feel tectonics movements in my friends souls. and even if these happenings are not directly related to me, sometimes I feel like I am in the middle of the earthquake.

Anyway, I saw more than I needed to see. no angels, devils enough. and cold silent bridges that separate world in two other worlds. and you aren`t here, nor there. I don`t know how to explain better than this. and I don`t want to.