Pilgrimage decamp @ Cahors, Midi-Pyrénées. Pt.7.

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Pilgrimage decamp @ Cahors, Midi-Pyrénées. Pt.7.

Walking round the bend of the tumultuous Lot and walking up to a cliff overhanging the linear cataract if I didn't have fear my mind would not resist. Something distant is occasionally speaking to me with abrasive voice: I dismiss it quick and confound with joy le vie.

Awaiting fixed to the spot I stood gollum strong, again for the swallows to dive under the arch for 'the' photo, but they failed to show twice. Following the route GR65 I went above for views of the city and bridge in the foreground and was nervy towards the edge; in sandals I could topple over. It is a majestic city below and beyond. Why pass through unaware on GR65 unless you see only god ahead and not all around.

On my own that voice! I don't know who it is. But it is not the seeing eye. It must be some damned creature infested in a distant cellar. By one I defeat the other one because I know and is wrong. It is a noise from the past; distinctly on its last toe nails.

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