I keep walking. After some kind of recent fall-out between me and myself, I’ve kept thinking — no, not exactly thinking, to be honest, it’s more of an intuitive understanding (which might be wrong) — that if I keep walking, at least I keep myself upright, at least I keep the momentum, I don’t fall. Now I’ve walked so much, these last weeks, that even mr Dog has tired of me. That’s quite bad, you know. To him, there’s never been such a thing as ‘too much walking’. To make matters worse, it’s dreadfully cold. It’s fun and nice — and I love how the cold makes it easy to breathe — but after almost two months of this, even I begin to long for spring.
“Mon esprit ne va si mes jambes ne l’agitent.” Michel de Montaigne, Essais.
It is very true.