Friday, March 14, 2014

The First Thread

Sometimes you just have to walk.  And sometimes, what you find on you sojourn isn't pretty.  In this case, a giant, industrial-looking dam(n) dominating the river.  I don't remember seeing it the last three times I'd been here.  Perhaps this was the reason for the tears.  The ones I'd been choking back the last three night and now, lying in my tent.

Tears aren't my normal response to seeing such a monstrosity: disgust, nausea, even.  But in retrospect, tears are most appropriate.  I don't linger long; there is, after all, a journey to feed.  I just wish I had brought my camera to record the crime.

I take refuge from the early morning fog in a Tim Horton's where I feast on a fat- and salt-laden breakfast and watch a spider crawl up the other side of the booth from my jacket.  Was this the same spider I caught spinning in my campsite?  Quite a ride for a spider: like me travelling to the Antarctic.

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