Chapter One: The Path

It's early afternoon, probably around 1:45. I am sitting on a bench, I'm not quite sure where. I may have passed the German boarder, for they don't clearly mark it when you're this far out. There's a tree arching over head and water droplets slowly drip from it onto my neck as I look down to write. I stare straight ahead of me and I see short, lengthy crops of some sort that have a brilliant grey-blue stalk. About forty feet out all visibility is lost due to the thick fog. It looks like the sky is filled with white all around, up and down to the ground. I don't know what time it is; I don't wear a watch. I have no one to talk to, no cell phone, no people. Only passerby's who say "hoy." I've walked a good distance now. I was told the road I was on would lead me from Bocholtz to a small town on the German boarder. There isn't a sole in sight besides the second car that's passed by in thrity minutes. There is a gravel road which I followed and the occasional lone bench on the side near the threeway split in the path. It's funny, as I walk further down the road I can estimate when a bench is near for they are all beneath trees of some sort. Encountering the first bench felt like reaching a landmark. The cross of Jesus was posted up against that tree.

I feel like Dorothy on this road. It's misting now. Perhaps I'll head back the way I came.