empty handed

On the road again. Unexpectedly. A backpack, a sleeping bag, a suit. Nothing more. Nothing less. There is food everywhere, berries and weeds and seeds. There are sheds to sleep in and hopefully some friendly people on the road. There is little room for books in my bag but I took Christian Bobin's "The very Lowly" with me. He writes about the life of Francis of Assisi. "Leaving. Leaving once more. Incessantly, endlessly leaving." And this: "The difference between men and women is not a difference of sex but of place. The man stays in his man's place, cleaves to it ponderously, with seriousness, remains safely within his fear. The woman does not remain in any place, not even her own, but constantly disappears into the love that she calls, calls, calls. This difference would be a desperate one if it were not for the fact that it can be overcome at any moment ..... A movement is all it takes, a single movement of the sort that children make when they throw themselves forward with all their might and without any fear of falling or dying, forgetting the weight of the world." And a last one: "I will be enriched by everything that I loose."

I am empty handed again. So I can fill my hands with raspberries, malva seeds, cherries, wild spinage. So I can take other peoples' hands. So I can hold my walking stick in one and hold to other one over my eyes to protect them from the sun while staring into the distance.