Buen Camino

May 2019 - April 2024
An open-ended adventure by Fiona Read more
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  • Day 5

    En Route to Camino

    May 23, 2019 in France ⋅ ☀️ 21 °C

    One of the things I looks forward to most when I travel is writing these blogs.  I go through the travel-day looking for something that's culturally different from my life in Melbourne, or consider interactions with friends met on route to another location. It makes the holiday a social and cultural analysis. All day an idea percolates. The writing of the blog is the most strenuous part, often times I have to write a blog twice after the initial inspiration has gone because I didn't hit save (such as this blog). I write at night when all I want to do is sleep, or I write when I'm on a train in transit between cities or countries. The inspiration and writing is one aspect, but perhaps the main reason I write - although I wouldn't want to fully admit it - is to share the blogs with family or on Facebook to collect 'likes' and spread the FOMO to those who can be bothered reading till the end.  Such is the way of our social media age.

    I'm about 5 days into this trip and have not been as desperate to write as I normally am. I have also noticed that I'm taking this trip more at face-value and feeling far more relaxed than previous trips. This is the first, very apparent moment I have noticed that the 2.5 years of councilling for my anxiety has paid off. The adrenaline is not as high, the second guessing is at a minimum, and I feel more confident. I also strongly feel that this comes with age - last time I was in Europe I was around 24 years old. I wanted to fit in as much sightseeing  as possible but my head was stuck in grief. Travel forces you to stop wallowing in self pity and instead focus wholly on where you will get your next meal, or how to get to the station and buy a ticket, or how to ask a local for directions to the chemist. It forces you to live in the moment, but often the moment can be overwhelming when you are an outsider. Back then, the only peace I felt was in churches. I could poke myself and acknowledge the grief, but still feel like I was taking in culture and admire the archetecture. Churches are calm but exciting in their foreigness.

    This trip's aim is ultimately to do a bloody big walk. We will do 2-3 weeks on the Camino Frances across Spain to Compostela de Santiago. It is a pilgrimage route, following the way of St James who brought Christianity to Europe. Now its a tourist destination for white people to 'find themselves' and for at least a moment to reconnect with themselves. Everyone has a different reason for doing the Camino, and everyone's Way is different, but it is ultimately a reconnection with body if you are walking 20-30km a day with a 10kg pack. Our aim for doing this is partially a 'coming of age' - to purge the anxieties, the sadness of unrequited lovers lost, for new beginnings. Its a slower holiday than I'm used to, where I practically lived on a train and every dinner's meal was eaten in a different town. It will also complete my bucket list dream to visit 30 countries by 30 years old. It is the perfect holiday.

    And yet, despite all the weight put on this holiday - the expectations for epiphany and the hope to find inner calm through acceptance of self and of blisters - I don't particuoarly want to write. Not with the same ferocity as I used to.  I often had discussions with my Irish trotskyest shrink that I believe we place detailed narratives on memories to defign ourselves. These can be dangerous and self centred. My doctor doesn't agree fully, his speciality is EMDR therapy, not your standard CBT. I told him I'd written a diary pretty consistently since I was 8 years old and he wasn't half as impressed as I hoped he'd be. In a later session when I mentioned I haven't written in my diary for a few months, mainly because I didn't know how to word some of the events that had happened recently to my friends, and in turn what that would mean to me (I'd thought too much of the narrative than the act of simply writing events) he stated that a diary can be pointless as you have to choose what to include and more importantly what to exclude. It becomes tiring. I've found reading over them is quite humorous as you remember more what you specifically excluded rather than what you included. The narrative of my diary was getting depressing. I would write perhaps once or twice a month so the diary takes time to fill. One page would be the start of a new dating relationship, a page later it had ended. I also mainly write when I feel down, but then the diary seems like I'm a sorry sod who has no happiness, so I'd try to incoude something happy but it seems forced. Or I'd exclude the details on why I'm sad. Now the diary's seem pointless and more stress than catharsis.

    We met with an old high-school friend when we were in London who recently returned from a Camino with her mum. They walked around 650 of the 800km, but her mum injured her ankle and couldn't make it to Compostela. She is a playwrite and will be writing a script about her trip. She said initially it would be a play about a mother and daughter bonding on The Way and about acceptance of body. Now it will be a puppet play with turtles (as they walked very slowly) and on her Way she did a lot of thinking about Brexit and the value in remaining in the EU - the acceptance and lesser racism that comes with a union of different cultures. Now her play will be about self and about politics. For someone who also writes, she didn't write at all on her Camino. I'll be interested in how I feel while I walk. It might be a comfort to not write, or a desparation to type out my thoughts as they evolve over the trip. One foot in front of the other.

    These blogs aren't quite the same as my diaries. They are snapshots rather than an attempt to journalise. But still, with all the expectations and the range of emotions I have set for my camino, it may be hard for even me to put them into words!
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  • Day 7

    Relative Miracles

    May 25, 2019 in Spain ⋅ 🌫 10 °C

    Everything is relative. When I hiked at home, the longest I did was around 20km, with most practice walks were just under 400m altitude, and I was tired by the end. Today i walked 21km and potentially could have walked more. Anything compared to yesterday's 27km in the icy cold is easy. Even yesterday with more steep parts would have been completely doable.  However yesterday we climbed practically the height of Mount Bawbaw, which previously would he a seemed inconceivable.  I woke up this morning after walking back from dinner like a 'velociraptor' as it's coined, with your legs moving stiffly theough your hips rather than at your knees (who knew kneecaps could ache quite so much) and still woke up fine this morning. Only a slight ace in my back (maybe I don't need 3 changes of clothes. Maybe I don't need clothes at all?). Though I can't really talk of pain, because to be fair, it is only day 2 of 2-3 weeks on our Camino.

    Depsite it only being day 2, I don't want to leave. Camino is its own culture. Its an addiction. Its a purpetual personal miracle. When I thought of epiphany I thought of a silent self-awakening, but on the most popular French Way at least is a social event. Yet its so completely wholesome in every possible way. When I walked the 'mere' 21km today, I felt good - we were walking with a fitter, younger 22 year old from Washington DC. His pace was faster than I would've liked after a hard day yesterday and when I'm carrying 5km more than him, with 7 years on him to top it off. But I didn't want to lose a friend. And what friends they are. When your conversation starts with a heavy, personal topic such as 'where are you from and why are you on Camino?' you are bound to bypass the aaquaintence stage of friends reasonably quickly. But there are so many reasons why we Camino. Personally, the reason I tell people depends on my mood. But every answer is true. One response is that I am finally in a career I enjoy but its exhausting and I'm terrified I won't last. The next is because of a weird closure on an unrequited love. Another is due to a new romamce and fighting my fear of self-sabotage. The basic reason is for a holiday to do a walk. The major reason is to be rid of anxiety. Everyone has the same mix of reasons on why they camino, which reason you hear just depends on how long the road is or on how many sangria are flowing when you get to the stop point.

    My walk today was so much easier than yesterday, but it was a bit faster than I'd've liked. On the steep downward decline into Zubiri I was happy and so relaxed but I lost my confidence. Its very odd to have those 3 feelings at once. I was worried that at the speed I wasnt comfortable with I would have lost my footing (and I nearly did so many times) and because I was so relaxed-out-of-it I was putting my foot in the wrong places and weighting wrong. But I didn't want to fall behind my new American and Irish friends. We ended up having lunch together in Zubiri where me and Katrina stopped, but they walked on to the next town just under 6km further on. Though at lunch they seemed more tired than me. The Irish were gastro and cardio doctors from Dublin, the American is a 22 year old collage graduate on a gap year before a career in finance.

    Yesterday was a completely different experience from today. In body, and stamina, and mind. There was no time to be too concerned yesterday, but today I couldn't shake the concern. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Every day is a different speed. Maybe I'm learning that there is nothing wrong with anxiety, it's just about time and place?

    A part of me wished I could have rested and gained my confidence on the slippery slopes so I could keep up, however if I had moved on I wouldn't have shared an alburge with a Japanese and a French who are seasoned pelegrin (pilgrims). The Japanese has done maybe 3 Camino ways and the French guy one short Camino previously, but this camino for him started in bourdeax and will finish in Santiago. Another nearly 70 year old man started his Camino in norther Netherlands. He started walking on 3rd March and is only in Zubiri today, with 700+km to go to Santiago. Try to comprehend that please for a moment. How inspiring is the Camino. How inspiring are the people on the camino.

    Our seasoned pilgrim friends told us that Burgos is 14 days of 20-30km walking from where we started - around the same distance to Santiago. It's when you have settled in to the walk and have your 'camino family' so everyone has a party when they reach Burgos. Burgos is a big town with a big church. I want to go there so badly. But it might not leave much time for our last 100km to Santiago - you need the last 100km to get your Camino certificate. However after the wholesome and stupid conversation tonight, a stamp seems meaningless. A party in Burgos with these wonderful people seems much more meaningful.

    Tomorrow we walk and easy 20km to Pamplona - a large city where we will party with our Irish friends who will leave the camino there, and our Romanian friend, and maybe the American and Irish doctors. We will definitely make other friends on the way before dinner too. Despite the overtaking and overlapping, we all seem to meet at random checkpoints along the way.

    When we asked the Japanese pelegrin why he continues to walk the Camino, he said 'for the miracles.' I don't know if, on day 2, that I belive in miracles, but i am beginning to belive in the way of the Camino. It in itself is a miracle. I really don't want to leave, particularly while my feet can still carry me.
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  • Day 10

    I Am A Body

    May 28, 2019 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 15 °C

    At the end of a day I shower and sit on my bunk, slowly assessing my legs and feet. I don't have any blisters and for this I am so so grateful. I have a slight red lump on the front of my shin where my shoe top pushes into my leg. This is hard to fix as it's a pressure sore rather than from friction, however I have learnt that doing my boots up looser doesn't cause blisters and avoids the pressure sores a little. My shins also hurt from having my feet at right angles for 20-30km a day, and I am concerned about shin splints. I walked around the first 7km today in my flat day-shoes and that fixed this problem - perhaps I'll buy walking sandals and throw out my flats. My left knee aches badly on the inner tendon when I walk without a brace, but seems reasonably fine if I wear the beace from the beginning of the day. My kneecaps ache but are getting better - probably because we had less downhill today. The balls of my feet are so sensitive. This is just from walking so much and carrying extra weight. There is nothing I can do for this but elevate my feet every night and hope that they will callous.

    On day one I felt a twang in my groin muscle when I stepped badly up the mountain. I was so worried this would become an ongoing issue, but by morning it was perfectly fine. My calves ached after the Pyrenees, but now they only burn a little on the inclines, but recover during the walk. After day one I spent 20 minutes massaging them, but this isn't needed now. Day one strangely my hands were the biggest problem. The cold of the mountain top made them freeze. I couldn't feel my fingers from second knuckle down. I couldn't open my pack and could barely write to sign in to the albergue. When I walk now by the end of the day my fingers are swollen from all the blood pooling there during the day. Apparently walking sticks help this since your arms are pendicular with your body, but cause their own problems such as palm blisters and dry skin. Hands aren't as strong as feet.

    In the evening you go to bed thinking if you will manage it tomorrow, and wonder if you should have a sleep in or a rest day. By morning you feel recovered, besides a dull ache in your feet and knees, but fine to walk. We are like salamanders who can regrow their tails - at night our bodies heal more than we realise.

    We met a 66 year old South African man today who is riding the French Way in 15 days. He had a knee reconstruction 6 months ago. He is doing this to show his body that he can, and had the most genuinely open and friendly demeanour. I can barely walk the camino, riding in this terrain would be near impossible in my mind. But that's just it, it really is mind over matter.

    At dinner with a seasoned pilgrim in Pamplona he told me that the French way can be split roughly into 3 sections. The first five days to a week is about recognising your body. You cross the Pyrenees, you shed weight because your pack is too heavy, and your body is tender and blistered as it adjusts to walking. The second section across the plateaus is for your mind as it is boring with most people choosing to do 30-40km walking per day to get it over with. The flat fields and hot sun make you close into yourself and reflect. The last section is for the spirit, as you get giddy with the thought of being close to Compostela and the Ways converge so you meet with so many pilgrims with different stories of their own journies.

    I'm five days into my walk and although my feet ache and my knees still burn, I feel stronger. Hills aren't as tiring anymore. My back isn't as pained carrying my pack. I have more energy at the end of the day. When I walk I notice the pain and am able to often pass over it - if I can't it is time to rest. Today on my walk I wanted to spend more of it in silence. I got to the top of a hill and was inspired to write a stupid limerick or had a line from a book in my head. Beyond the pain there is inspiration. I wish I was walking the full 35 days to experience the whole French Way of the Camino. After the first week, your body is the vessel to get you there, you just have to listen to and take care of her.
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  • Day 11

    Pilgrims and People

    May 29, 2019 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 23 °C

    The Camino is full of people and of gossip. The first week where we walked with 'our Camino family' of pilgrims, you meet people with their own stories and share the stories of others you've heard on the way. Everyone becomes a legend. You overlap with people as you leap-frog from town to town, all trudging to Compostella.

    We hear of an Irish man who is walking his 3rd Camino this year. His mum always wanted to walk The Way but passed away before she got a chance. He walked it first for her and placed a stone at Cruz de Ferro in memory of her. It is tradition to drop a stone at Ferro - originally this stone represented a sin that you would leave near the end of the Camino, discarding before reaching the Church of St James. As tourists are, now there is apparently a pile of stones and trinkets left here.  The Spanish poor and gypsies collect anything left of value, such as baby's shoes for the miscarried, or necklaces and rings offered as tokens of love, lost. Every few months the pile of rocks and trinkets gets so high, a truck clears the spot so the sins can be replaced by other pilgrims'.  He walked the Camino a second time for himself and realised that the stone he had left for his mum had been carted away and was so angry about this that he decided to make a plaque in honour of her and will affix it at the cross so 'the bastards can't take it away'. He says this in Irish jest apparently, but for him I'm sure it is all a long grieving process. He would have probably spent more time this year on Camino than he has at home.  I hope after he places the plaque he can find peace.

    There's Takeshi the Japanese man. The one non-Christian-heritage man I've met who has walked perhaps 7 Camino. Seeking a different life than that prescribed in Japan he lives now in Spain. When people ask where he is from, he replies 'from everywhere'. Besides Japanese and Spanish, he speaks decent French and English. When we ask him why he repeatedly walks the Camino he replies in accent 'for the miracles'. It's hard to expand on his answer, so we change the topic and buy him another beer.

    We hear of a man who walked the camino with a dog. Depending on the story, he either had a pack of dogs or adopted a husky puppy. The alburge refuse to house him and his dog, so he camps by rivers on the outskirts of town. Over the meseta plains the dog overheats so he walks the distances at night. A 750km walk - the ultimate holiday for a dog and his man.

    Beautiful Pieter from Bourdeax has a wife from Romania, at home with his daughters. We bump into him by the Puente La Reina Bridge, eyes closed in the setting sun. I see him again in the church boarding in Estella, applying tiger balm to his feet which are suffering from tendonitis. I ask him if it helps and he replies 'not really' and shrugs. We pass him in Logrono, crossing the square eating ice cream. Of all pilgrims I've met, he seems the most at ease and the most calm. I've never seen him walking, but when in town he doesn't hide in the alburge or fumble for a nap and shower. He enjoys the travel and what the town has to offer.  The last I saw him he was leaving our table to catch another Romanian pilgrim, to practice his wife's language.

    The Canadian with the bright eyes and separated- toed runners has a quick break in a roadside stop. Although everyone looks at katrinas thongs in shock (our feet ache from our boots so our aussie sandals are a blessing) he points and yells that she is doing an amazing walk. He wants to walk the Camino next time in bare feet, giving himself double the time to make the pained distance. We walked with him briefly in Estella, where we nearly have to jog to keep up with his pace. He originally flew in to Barcelona with the intention to mountain climb, but on the plane he heard of the Camino and left his gear in a locker and headed to do the walk. He doesn't have much time so is jogging the whole thing - hoping to complete 30-60km a day, depending on the terrain. Although he wants to complete it, he is already disappointed he will never see the same faces again as he outstrips us on his way to Compostela.

    Mike from Canada and Paul from Ireland walk the Camino together. They met on a past walk and now, though both so different, repeat the walk together. Mike is a self proclaimed embodiment of the Camino - always offering advice on how to stretch sore legs, or which alburge have the most authentic experiences, or what to carry in your pack. He shares stories of grandure from his past travels, translates the menu, and repeats his anecdotes. In Pamplona, the first big city, Mike enters the bar and pulls the pilgrim to one table. Last year when he walked he came into the same bar and had a grest party, he wants to recreate it. The other Aussie girls, tired from the walk, leave to find a quiet dinner, but we stay to fulfil Mike's dream. He shows us his Camino tattoos and remarks how a real pilgrim carries his pack and starts walking before dawn. Paul sits quietly, sending the odd work email. He has done many Camino and looks so well with a glint in his eye and both feet on the ground. Patient, one foot in front of the other.

    Rachael from America is walking alone. A younger girl who has finished biology and is now studying dentistry. She is lovely and down to earth. She travelled to France with her boyfriend but now walks across Spain on her own. She tells us how in America, the poor children have such bad teeth because all their parents can afford is coke and Macdonalds. The rich kids also come in with holes in their teeth because their parents don't believe in fluoride. The poor and the privileged. She is walking because although she is smart, her parents paid for her college. She is doing the Camino for herself, so she can be proud of her own achievements. For someone so young, and travelling so alone, I'm already proud of her.

    One night we spent in an alburge in Zubiri, an old man came in who looked like he'd walked further than the two days from Saint Jean to Zubiri. Perhaps because of his age he had taken longer than most to cross the Pyrenees mountain? In the bar later that night over beers we hear that he is The Dutchman, who left his home in Netherlands to walk the camino, the whole way by foot. He left two and a half months ago and has only just crossed the boarder of Spain. Desperate, we want to speak to him, to shake his hand and ask him how his feet are. By daybreak he has gone.

    I have learnt, twice in my life now, that I have no real desire to conquer mountains or to trek for the sake of a stamp. Despite the repeated conversations and the constant search for enlightenment, I miss our original group of pilgrims the most. For as busy as the French Way is, the characters you meet on the way do form part of the legacy of the Camino.
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  • Day 14

    Relative Miracles 2

    June 1, 2019 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 8 °C

    One week in and we are spending our 'rest day' on the train between Legrono to Burgos. From Burgos we will walk a couple of days over the miseta plateaus to experience walking in the heat and flat terrain. Then on to walk the last 100km to Compostela to get our completion certificate and a pat on our backs and a tick in that box.

    I was talking with Katrina about the interactions on the Camino. Although we are meeting some really lovely people and when you are walking miles you are somewhat forced to talk to people you wouldn't normally, however I've found very few people on camino are 'my people'. People that can banter and talk politics and are more rational than spiritual. Katrina said she tells people she's a biologist and drops the 'evolutionary' from her title as she doesn't know how they will respond. I haven't had anyone want to know anything more about the fact I work in a union. We chatted about how we are comfortable with our selves and our professions, even if they are 'against god' in some odd way.

    After a first week of inspiration, I'm stagnating and becoming synical. It's a culmination of irksome feelings. On day two or three of our walk we chatted with an American family from Oregon. They asked if we were religious and we stated we are not, but they are. They asked us what we would say to God if we met him on the Way. Katrina responded somewhat jokingly that we would have some firm words to say to him, but the question bugged me so I fell silent and fell back on the path. I couldn't picture meeting God. Two days after this conversation I've reconsidered - I wouldn't know what to say to Him, because I'm Athiest. Not Agnostic, but Athiest. I would never sit with God. I could be knocking on the pearly gates of heaven but there would still be no God for me.

    I fundamentally disagree with the idea of a missionary. Suddenly the idea of doing a pilgrimage walk to visit the body of an apostle who spread Christianity through an otherwise Muslim country feels so wrong. But the Camino doesn't have to be about God, as they say, however it is exceedingly rare to find anyone on the Camino who does not have a Christian background. The majority of pilgrims are American, Irish and South Korean. Many of these people would not do the walk to Mecca, or the walk from Egypt with Estha and the Jews, or the walk across India to follow Ashoka's spread of Buddhism. Or maybe they would do these walks, maybe I'm writing them off too quickly and am being too cynical. To be honest, I probably wouldn't do these walks either. Despite being 3rd generation athiest, I come from a Christian background so subconsciously relate to the camino more than these other walks. This also buggs me.

    After my incomplete PhD thesis, I've been toying with ideas for a better research topic. Working as a travel wholesaler, I learnt that a foreign culture and holiday itineries for travellers are pitched according to your culture. If an Australian wants to travel to Japan for a ski holiday, they are happy with bunk beds close to the slopes, with a bar nearby. We are usually put with the Americans. The Europeans want comfort - perhaps a cook or a chalet style hotel. The Chinese want all-you-can-eat crab for dinner, apparently. Hotels will be built with separate wings, to segregate the cultures of people so everyone can have their ideal holiday and sample the parts of the foreign culture they hope to see. Everything is a snapshot that works within the ingrained stereotypes of our culture. We all go home having had a good time but ultimately seeing only what we and they want us to see. Cultures are fascinating. People are fascinating.

    This holiday is pitched as a way to find yourself on a difficult physical journey. It's an ancient route that has split into multiple Ways, following a man who brought Christianity to Europe then following his followers back to him. Its symbolic. I'm finding it a somewhat sad metaphor for the feeling the West has for more. For a feeling of incompleteness.

    The other night we went out for dinner, hoping to find a restaurant that would serve us authentic Spanish food. One look at our camino shell necklace and our 2 words of Spanish, and we are handed the 'pilgrim menu'. Generally a cheap and delicious 3 course set menu, but we are pigeonholed. We resigned ourselves to this, and sat with the other pilgrims, eavesdropping on their conversation. The spiritual Japanese man (the one non-Christian Culture I've met on the camino) was speaking to an American woman, and she was saying her friends wished her goodbye before she left, with a 'I hope you do find yourself on the Camino, so you can finally stop searching'. She seemed disappointed with this response. I also hope she finds whatever it is she is looking for to make her more comfortable with herself. I don't know if this kind of epiphany it is something that you can plan for, and this holiday seems very planned. Perhaps it's something that might be found under the couch at home, who knows.

    Troops of people, having a break from their lives to meet others in the same state and to hope to find more about themselves. Its beautiful and horribly sad. The Spanish culture isn't the main drive as I'd hoped. It's a capitalist sense of something missing and of a lack of integrity in our lives and our work.

    If I'm not going to 'find myself' on this walk, or suddenly wake up with my anxieties gone, and am not going to suddenly become spiritual, then what times have I felt the most enlightened?
    Listening to the stories of Hibakusha in Japan singing about their home towns that were bombed in the war. That made me feel an intense connection with others. Seeing the statue on the banks of the Hiroshima River of children holding up the equation 'E=mc2' made me shudder at the thought of the godlike power of humans, and our responsibility to use this for good. Reading Sarte in highschool where he states that everything that occurs in the world is a result of my actions in some small or large way. The WFYS conference in Russia where I ate with people from across the globe, but instead of discussing our hopes for enlightenment we discussed our welfare systems, and our methods of democracy, and could ask questions about the differences between Shia and Sunni with a Malay and a Pakistani over a shared meal. These were moments I felt so humbled. I felt so incredibly powerful, and so powerless. Being a white person from a first world Christian nation has so much weight and responsibility, and I don't know this is realised by others on this pilgrimage.

    It feels like us pilgrims are of one mindframe of an oddly individualistic nature, hiking incredible miles through the glorious Spanish countryside. Arriving into ghost towns during siesta, but when we sleep, the locals come out to play. Too busy looking at our own trudging feet that we can't see the pain or the happiness we create, or our responsibilities to others. If we focus on this, we will ultimately clear our own souls and find our ingegrity.

    There is a long walk from the top of Japan to the south - the peace march. Every year they start walking in May and arrive in Hiroshima and Nagasaki for the dates of the bombings in early August. They often are joined by locals and school children who walk with them in solidarity. They bang drums and sing and smile with bright banners. Some sleep in the houses of locals who offer them a place to stay, or a meal to help them on their way. St James did this Camino walk because - for better or worse - he believed in something beyond himself. Now this walk is purely for the individual. It's a sense of community that we are desperate for in Western capitalism. If we lived recognising that we are one of many and nurture this rather than run from it, perhaps we wouldn't need to get as many blisters while finding confort in this single life God or mother nature provided us.
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