The road after Hasstel took me north,  heading in direction Antwerp, sunny days, walking next to canals and hearing the klicks from my staff against the ground. Though a few ghostly towns and dark churches crossed my path as well.

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But mostly I woke up with the sun in my face.

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Like the canal,  my walk progressed in a slow inevitability, that would flow down the passage of time whether sun, rain,  hail or snow.

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A monotonous tramping, that on one hand is exhausting and the other so rejuvenating for the mind at the same time.

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Like meditating monks I have trouble keeping a clear thought in my head for to long, whoh is both extremely joyable and tiresome at the same time, luckily though I have my kindle to give some external stimulation to my mind.

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So I don’t sack down from the exhaustion of running around, and round,  in my own head all the time.

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A day on the road is all from the solitude of the grey stone under your feet,  to the warming laughter of people hearing your story,  to the breathtaking subliminal picturew laid in front of your eyes.

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And not a minute goes by when I, at the same time, scream,  cry,  doubt, enjoy, love, hate what I’ve set out to do.

Though sitting here and looking back,  trying to find a way to describe the past 2,5 weeks since these pictures,  I must admit I’m getting tired.

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