Seem to have left most of the walkers behind. Just Modestine alone on the path with traffic oneside and fields of maize on t'other.
All I needed was a little information and the welcome, the calm awaiting was palpable. But on. A picnic lunch with the remnants of a bottle of Peregrino Tinto, a grabbed conversation with Julie from Chicago about the recently caught loval serial killer and on across baked orange earth to Astorga and Gaudí's awful Palacio, according to received opinion.
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