A rebel without a clue.

Beginning of day five and I'm awake by 5. Had an exceptional night's sleep, except for when I stretched into a full yawn and strained my tendon too much - if that is all it actually is? The pain in all of my arm has localised to a point below the shoulder socket: probably needs an X-ray? Suddenly I'm quite excited by the prospect of following the course of a well researched Roman Road. So few exist above modern roads or are no longer rights of way - as they pass under landowners fields. With a Franziskaner Kreuz around my neck I feel invincible as though it was a amulet with a protective power! Oh, the memories I have of other Camino where I wore it with pride. Although Francis of Assisi became incorporated into the Vatican I don't see that that prevents the simplicity of his original vision, which we very much need in the multiplex layered interleaved world where chaos seems to have us by the proverbials. It's only a wooden semi cross: more like a stylised 'T...

It's telling me to write. Indeed the voice is beckoning me to walk flee disappear. Live rough. Sleep in doorways and beg. Beg food and keep walking. Become homeless. As there is no inevitable end in sight with Leeds City Council and living in hope of a place in the same vicinity as my family what am I hanging on for? Sure I feel utterly meaningless on the eleventh floor, but I do have a roof over my head. Sure I hear the continual traffic noise - bins being emptied at Bagel Nash around five, deliveries being made to the same at another ridiculous hour, sirens from all along the arterial roads (leading up to Chapeltown, Scott Hall, Meanwood) deafening as they flash along Skinner Lane and turn along North Street, but I don't shiver against the lingering cold of a February morning. This is humanities disease: the insane hive. We are forever on our way nowhere to find where we belong. Such speed. Going places at all times. Creating destruction all along the byways and sowing our ...