As a pilgrim you are never quite sure what world you are in. You left behind the life you lived before, and it is done with; you are in a strange time, a time when all you have to do is walk. Dates become meaningless; a day is merely the passing of the sun from one hand to the other, from behind you to in front of you. A pilgrim has given up reading the papers; a pilgrim has given up doing work; a pilgrim is just one big foot marching from one place to another, one great yearning for the end.
There's a strange sort of feel to a pilgrimage. …
