samedi 19 janvier 2008
around 11, the voyager stopped and wrote in his little black moleskine book:
very cold this morning as I left town long before sunrise. stopped after two hours for a coffe in the city where arthur rimbaud was born. now crossing the endless plains of the big nowhere beetween north and south. hope to reach the vineyards at the right moment for harvest time. almost warm now. smells like pancake for the last 120km. still not sure where to sleep tonight.
maybe for IF year 2 I should change some parameters like let go the 20x20cm arbitrary rule. force myself into something different.