|Monastery at Oseira|
|Vaova Cocktail Bar, Santiago|
The next day naturally became a day of rest and recuperation. I was secretly pleased when I got messages from the younger people in the gang who appeared to be suffering more than me. Put it down to experience...or just getting older. Because you know it has its compensations. I find some of the changes a challenge. I am moving at a different pace now from the striving of my previous life. The keep-all-of-the-plates-spinning-at-the-same-time life. But I feel I am getting there. And of course a night on the tiles with the gang shows me that I can still do it. But I need that less and less. Other things are becoming important. Poets can express this much better them me. Take "A Poetic State" by Czeslaw Milosz:
"Things once difficult are easy but I feel no strong need to communicate them in writing. Now I am in good health, where before I was sick because time galloped and I was tortured by fear of what would happen next. Every minute the spectacle of the world astonishes me: it is so comic that I cannot understand how literature could expect to cope with it. Sensing every minute, in my flesh, by my touch, I tame misfortune and do not ask God to avert it, for why should he avert it from me if does not avert it from others?...I was impatient and easily irritated by the time lost on trifles among which I ranked cleaning and cooking. Now, attentively, I cut onions, squeeze lemons and prepare various kinds of sauces."