The Pessimist

We were huddled under a bus shelter in Paris, barely escaping a downpour and frantically searching a departures board when we met our first pilgrim. His voice was nearly as loud as his florescent orange backpack. “Ye goin’ te Bayonne,” he inquired with a lilting Irish accent. “Yes!” we smiled relieved that we weren’t alone … Continue reading The Pessimist

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The Joyful

He was sitting on the edge of the highway when I saw him. Cars sped by, but he was motionless. His heavy black robes fell like curtains over his folded knees and a single scallop shell hung from his neck. A wide brimmed hat hid most of his serene face. Must be from an ancient … Continue reading The Joyful