Versión española
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From Gonzar à Ponte to Campaña.
24kms. 7h.
HER…
She stepped into the bar… and just like a hurricane…
– I found the right technique, yes sir!
Everybody in the bar smiles, like if they knew her already.
– Well yes. I arrived to Portomarin, she said, wondering if I was going to stay there. It was a few kilometers, but the village was beautiful… even if I could walk some more. So I told myself “I’ll try a new technique: “what if I take some wine with a plate of octopus ? Where would I end…?”
All the bar was listening to her carefully.
– I found a wine and tapas mate and I told her “as for me, in 30 minutes, I’m out of here”. I sat, enjoyed a first albariño, then a second one, then arrived the octopus, and the after-effects of the win told made me say “well I’d better stay”. So after finishing the bottle, my mate was continuing while I was going to bed… When I arrived to the hostal, I saw the time: it was very early, so why not stick to the plan… why not going back on the way? So I didn’t check in and after that, what I can tell you is that there were the best and quickest 8 kms of all the Way. It was sunny and hot, it was very likely that I wouldn’t get a place to sleep, but none of this was erasing the smile on my face. I am happy, overabundant and absolutely sure that I could have done 10 kms more. So, my friends, even if it’s a bit late, I assure that I discoverd it: with bread and wine can be done the Way!
Everybody laughed and almost applauded.
She’s very impulsive, passionate, however she always needs some remit, some organization, and that’s why she was feeling that happy: she realized that things could be alright without plan, trespassing her limits and by simply living.
She always walks with a smile on her face, no matter how was the weather like… some people have seen her talking to her shadow:
– Hey beautiful, you’re kind of getting a pretty good shape.
To which the shadow answers:
– You exaggerates and are a fool, but it’s true that it has been a long time since I didn’t see you smiling like that.
She already wasn’t listening: she was humming a song she invented from a mix of wining rugby song and absurd lyrics.
She becomes a child when she sees a cow walking on the plains or a goat getting close to her: she jumps like if it was the first time in her life, screams, take pictures and run terrified of the possibility of letting these beasts getting too close to her.
But she becomes a woman again when, before the daybreak, she faces the lonely forests full of fog… she clings on to her stick and says – tells herself – “Let’s move on!”
She sleeps with we every nights and her energy explosion is so strong that sometimes I can’t fall asleep; so I let her talk, I accept all of her reproachs about my hypochondria, my malaises, my complaints; I see her writing so at the end, little by little, fatigue takes the best of her and she begins to snore like nobody else. I contemplate her until I fall asleep myself. At 05:55, she wakes me up like everyday since 35 days: “Come on, come on, we need to start off…!” So I dress up and follow her…
She and me walk towards Saint James… even if I should say towards life…
The Analogue Project by Oleñka 