I’ve never done anything but dream. This, and this alone, has been the meaning of my life. My only real concern has been my inner life. FERNANDO PESSOA

Sunday, 10 February 2008


Time passes slowly up here in the mountains/We sit beside bridges and walk beside fountains/Catch the wild fishes that float through the streams/Time passes slowly when you're lost in a dream BOB DYLAN Time Passes Slowly from New Morning

The next 2 days, 11 and 12 December, were magical days. We climbed steeply from Ruitelán up to O'Cebreiro - Paul, Ezequiel and I. It was cold and frosty. There were blue skies. The sun illuminated distant misty valleys and fold upon fold of hills (1st pic). O'Cebreiro was a very special place, a high point of the journey both physically and emotionally. We entered the old, grey-stone church of Santa Maria Real. I had my credencial or pilgrim passport stamped. An organ softly played. We sat down for a while. I must have prayed in a vague sort of way. Unspecific thoughts and feelings hovered like ghosts on the border of my conscious and unconscious mind. Then I lit candles in memory of my mother and sister. I took a photo of a pilgrim statue (2nd pic). And outside took a photo of 2 more pilgrims (3rd pic).

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