A rebel without a clue.

Ro Heavy things have clearly got to go. A slow packet to the UK. Jeans, Jumpers, etc. Thought about a pair of shorts but I might just survive with what I have clearly? I could cut the lowe alpine trousers back to the knees or thigh. I haven't been to Girona before. I must've seen a minute percentage in 2004. I certainly had too much on my whistling little mind; again; but that was the first crisis; my theory my life is cycles of exploration. I conclude that I can accept 99% of the crap if only occasionally I live uniquely just extra placentally. Another square like Plaça Real Barri Gotic: Plaça de la Independencia. Charming Rosita Original(5.5%) Tarragona. Made uniquely with honey. Blooming eck. Them voices are not mine. It is a different time, but at some point during the 15th centuries, my antecedents were adventurers, conquistodors or gypsys. My blood is contaminated all through with crimson tides delivering gold, ivory, silk, pepper and people. Trafficking from Cape Cod...

Gi Coca Cola Light next to the University of Girona. I feel invigorated and some fear vanished. From Campus the pulse of Men At Work on a bright spring apres midi. One day becomes two and then another train to Pamplona. Never miss this jewelled city where puta is the first word that escaped my lips in Equity Point a kin of Gothic Point. Is where the stress of Montpellier might vanish in the wake of a migraine. Funny that my brain is shattered by happiness in this hopeful place. Figeac + Cahors -Montpellier + Girona is still a marvelous two zip to the truth. Funnily I really can't recall the place feeling so insanely beneficial. Something else which has changed. It is true I never looked elsewhere than me and I suppose a limit of the circumstances and my ignorance of age prevented me peeling back my eyelids further than the slight hooks they'd become working at Coors. It is better to be now. From the coat of the sleeping blessed virgin/vestit de la mare de éu adormida vestry ...

Departing Montpellier The noises. I retired before 9 last night and was left to accommodate a gaggle of giggling girls tittering in french laughter, but then! Monster of the deep at around four someone violently screaming, shouting and banging something: a door or shutter; thud thud thud. Le insanity of large cities. Someone festering while I was left to sweat on this morning. Well I am up and completely away with a café noir two sugars and pain compagne/pays. Bye bye Montpellier. If I get the chance to return to France in the future I will start from Estaing and continue the Way uninterrupted, but watch out for the cities: you get burned. Left to find café and pain. Was €20 Now €13.50! Sacred Blue! Finally I've left something behind. My first loss of the trip in a city I felt seldom seen: my right flask! Balls. More outlay from commercial France. The closer I get to the gravity of a city the less I am in control of my destiny as so much challenges any want I had...