30 May 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Travelogue, 0 Comments
05/30 Stonehenge, England
Like a string of pearls, one complaint began to lead into another. One minute it’s the weather, next minute it’s the price of food, carrying too much shit and then it was his feet. “I’m not walking any further, maybe I’ll just fly home”, confronted Jim. I reminded him that I was not his mother and if he thought I wanted to hear this shit, he had bigger problems than just his feet. “Nobody’s putting a gun to your head and you don’t need my permission to make choices”. I explained that I was not budgeted for repeating every other step and had a plan of what I wanted to see and experience and sometimes those things aren’t at the end of a train line. “I’m committed to go forward and if you find it in your best interest to detour, I’m more than willing to meet you anywhere else on the map”. “There’s no rule that says we have to do everything together”. I provided an example of picking up women. “I expect this to happen along the way and when we reach that fork in the road I’m sure you’re not going to be wanting me hanging around as a third wheel or vice versa. We’ll just meet up someplace down the road”. I tried to be a good person and attempt to avoid confrontations but traveling together has a tendency to bring these things to the surface. Conflicts start and end with words.
Surely I dreamt today, or did I see. I wandered in this forest thoughtlessly
the clever boy that I once knew; with pebbles white and bread crumbs too
left no trail and lost my way, where all my pictures were thrown away
Through the forest, in the middle of a glade, forever nagging to persuade
no plank or bridge was placed in sight, only fists clinched as if to fight
the wind, the wind has caused me harm; you pulled too many false alarms.
