Like any other day, I chose to go on this abandoned old road. You can't really say 'road' because is just two man wide and since I'm probably the only one who passes through here it just got harder for foot walk. It’s muddy and a bit kind of 'dark'. Anyway, this area is not that populated so you can't say that the other paths around here are roads.
Most of the people usually choose the other road because is safer, nice to walk and beautiful. Also is warmer because of the surrounding trees. I choose this one because is straight and shorter. Maybe I like this bad path because I like to be alone and hear my own thoughts. Just like now. The fact that I'm walking on this path means that I'm not hurry, because being a muddy path slows me down. When a man hurries all the time might become nervous I think.
These boots that I'm wearing right now are so heavy that makes me feel that I'm somehow strongly related with this path. The mud sticks to the boots and I slip a little. I have to stop to clean it a little bit. Although, I will walk until the only tree that grows around and I will seat under its crown. I know that it doesn't have too many leaves now because of the winter that closes each day and anyway it doesn't help too much - is not raining, is not hot and doesn't hides me from some angry eyes. I like this little tree - is so lonely in the field and looks like it grown there waiting for me. I think its hilarious that while people wear more clothes in the winter to resist to the cold, the trees are doing exactly other way - are getting naked.
Look at me. I was thinking that much to this road that I'm walking and half of it is already behind me. I'm sitting here under the tree on a root while cleaning the boots and counting the days that are left from this winter. Not because I wouldn't be comfortable with the cold. I don't give too much attention to the weather. I'm a strong person, I get cold very rarely and more than that I'm not that kind of person that the only purpose in their life is to feel comfortable. Is true, I'm wearing a quite heavy winter overcoat, but I wear this coat mostly because of its numerous and large pockets.
By the way, let's see my today's equipment. In my left pocket I have a forgotten chunk of bread - this one was given to me by an old woman yesterday on the other road. I feel remorse; I could give this bread to my old dog which starves while I'm away from home. In the same pocket I have different bread crumbs, tobacco, halves of matchsticks and paper chunks. I think all my pockets have these remains.
Walking forward now, I remembered the cold that surrounds me. While searching my pockets I found two "homemade" cigarettes, specially made for today last night. I'm not in the mood for smoking right now, my hands freezes in my pockets while handling the cigarettes. I remember the look of the dog last night while I was packing the cigarettes; it was standing with its big head resting on the front feet. I think that sometimes is thinking. I feel more close to my dog rather than other people. It's not afraid of anyone, although is old enough to be beaten by any other young dog. Those eyes that never hides their direction, turns with a straight sight and make the others to fear. It’s fearless and it behaves like a dominating entity. I wished that I could take it with me, but I can't leave the house unguarded. Lately, the wild animals in this area are quite starved and make lots of damages like spreading the garbage from the yard and wrecking my little improvisations around the home.
Back to my equipment... I have a kind of pencil, because I sharpened it as I could and looks quite weird now. I use it rarely and usually I mark some places that are a point of interest to me. Also sometimes I make some calculations related to my plans. The chunk of paper that I carry since a few months ago is real chaotic and I'm the only one who might understand it. A paper like this one can resist in my pocket about 4 months, after that is too depreciated. One thing that might look weird to other people, but they don't know about this, is the wire that I have tide to my belt. Luckily the belt is under the coat and can't be seen. I use it in many ways, but most of the time I use it to hang stuff to it. Also I have a short string that I have tide to my right wrist. This one looks like a bracelet and I use it when I can't use the wire. I have lots of "equipment" items - as I use to call it, but I'm not carrying everyday useless stuff. And I never leave from home without some items.
Lately, the fog gained terrain over the villages around here. The night comes early each day and the morning wakes up late. All the things are getting grey; the fog, my coat, the naked trees, the sky - which hasn't seen the sun since two weeks ago.
In the front of me lays the last portion of my path till I’ll reach the other road. Now I’ll have to review today’s plans. First I have to find some herbs that I heard that can ease my sleep. Some hot tea before the sleep should have a good effect on my dreams. At least I will warm a little. I will share it with my dog. I think that it deserves it after a day in the cold. By the way, maybe it will have a good sleep too. I’ve noticed that when I have an agitated sleep it’s also somehow disturbed. As it wouldn’t bad enough that I wake up tired in the middle of the night and then I find “Oldie”, as I call it sometimes, barking at who knows what. Weird are the dreams and so the sleeping. Most of these dreams are just an endless discussion.
After finding the herbs, I must pay a visit to that man who entitles himself “smith” for his discoveries related to the migration that passed a few hills from here this summer. He promised that he will tell me important things that I should know. I don’t know that I should trust him or not, but I have nothing to lose. His beard lies on his chest while is looking in the dirt – that happens when he’s talking about that migration.
SIDENOTE
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I'm thinking sometimes, how is to think something that no one is thinking. How is to think at something and at a point you would find yourself screaming "Oh, my God, this is me !". So I was thinking to some locations in the world where people are so few that they hardly forms a village and the most important thing that ever happen on a road like this from the beginning of the story was the thoughts of a person which was passing once there. These thoughts that not even the thinker would think at their importance for that place that probably no one would ever care and are instantly forgotten and dropped on that way...
