I've had a writers block. Not that I couldn't simply tell of this person I met at the last moment who saved me from sleeping in the cold after walking for sixteen hours, or how the mist reflects an earth-bow on the fog as cars pass in the night, but I haven't had a theme. The way I write that often doesn't matter. Walking along this main path south I have met peoples from around the planet, some drifting along at leisure while others sweep past on a mission, from Sweden, Holland,England,France,Brazil or from these United States. All traveling as grains of sand swept on wind and sea to end up brushing past one another, sometimes mingling in an eddie on their journey before being swept back to their own rhythm.
I have met many and all agree we must keep moving.