Daily story, October 11, 2024
Since it’s all over, I sell just about everything I own, keeping only two pairs of each bit of clothing, a toothbrush, the little tent we never used. I buy a new rucksack, sleeping bag, sleeping mat, knowing that quality makes the difference. I consider a stove, a compact little thing, but I want to take as little of this place with me as possible. As I set off walking I turn over in my head what I might be: knight errant; pious hermit; roving killer. Something new, I decide, that the world won’t need a name for.