Tuesday, 11 June 2013


The man with a van who took me out of the cement works and put me back on track told me that he had walked to Paris, took him three days. 
Woman kicking a dryer in the laudrette, I offered kicking advice, she asked if I was English. Pause. The dryer started to spin. We laughed. She'd been made redundant. She was going to New York State to walk. To think, she said.
Alain, in the place I stayed last night, told me Schuberts song cycle Winterreise worked for him. It goes  round and comes back to itself, he said.

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