Monday 24th October, am.

Day one. Monday morning. Up around 6. Finishing off the fully matured runner beans, which I blanched then pressure cooked last night, by reducing the liquor to a minimal. Will then turn them into good 'ole frioles refritos at my mum's...

First proper tranquil afternoon/evening since I left for France/Spain, and that mad rush to get to Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port to walk towards Santiago. I made a fried rice dish with courgettes and yogurt and finally my stomach/intestinal, although feeling bruised, seemed not to be gurgling away all night.

My dreams are still dense and complete narratives. I wake from one standalone to another, as I did at 3. Dreams which I must listen to. They are revealing truths about my interactions with people and my honesty of my dialogue to my actions. To be myself, truly. What is it that Camino, with it's marginalisation a 'being' does to reality, or the unreality, of other human pursuits. All weekend I've watched the nothing going about chasing the something just out of reach: whether in myself or my perception of others. My thoughts are a little confused. Possibly more than usual, but I am clean of any substance in my veins which might be confusing me. Including shifting back to a predominantly vegan diet.