The day before we started walking, I got the news that my dear uncle had died.

I don’t want every experience I have to have to become a soundbite, forcibly siphoning from it the gold it’s not yet ready to offer up.

What it feels like to walk without baggage

Walk with me a few paces, I told them, and then peel off to live your own life. And off they drifted happily—glad to be free of me too, I think.

Even in all this blissfully empty space, I can’t recall having a single insight—or even a simple thought apart from “what the hell?” in response to what I was seeing.