· James Torr · Personal  · 1 min read

I'm in a dark dormitory room at 2200. The lights went out half an hour ago.

Day 14: Hontanas to Fromista.

I’m in a dark dormitory room at 2200. The lights went out half an hour ago. There’s a chorus of light snorers. Let’s hope they don’t crescendo before I’m fully under the blanket of exhaustion. I’m mulling over plans in bed. It all changed a few hours ago. My journey is looking quite different now.

I’ve come to a realisation a bit late in the day. I booked a flight. I made a schedule. I reserved a hostel room a few hours ago: 36km from where I am staying tonight. Nobody is walking that fast. I spend a few hours chatting with an Italian chap, we walk around the small town I’m staying in, Fromista, we bump into a few familiar faces and spend an hour or two together. I feel something I guess I forgot. It’s a feeling I got last year. Community. An incidental, small group forming along a path, with a common goal, a destination. The group forms. A bubble of humanity. More than a geographic endpoint, they share more: memories, care, responsibilities, laughter, love, foot pain.

So, I’ll reschedule. I’ll pay the cost of changing my plans. But I’ll walk with people. Not past them.

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