Hitchhiked thru the south of France, spent a lovely day Pyrenaic-hiking beneath a chilly blue sun, trekking into Spain & ascending to sleep atop Taillón, enshrouded by eerie sweetness of soft silent fog (drifting off, asleep in a cloud).
Awoke to stroll unhurried back down to La Brèche de Roland, unpeopled & gusty, where once Dionysius or some other mischievous god plucked a molar from the jaw of the enormous ridgeline, leaving a strange perfect gargantuan rectangle of empty space whistling amidst so much solid rock - standing there teeth-chattering & skins-shivering & just jolly with dawn delirium, I hollered Greetings into the Wind, into France - bonne journée à Vous! France! Aurora! À la prochaine!