I nodded, shivering but bemused. It was an ancient greeting in these parts. He looked cursorily at the accordioned map in my shivering hands, then shook his head in dismay and gazed out over the windswept burren. I asked him where the road led that passed his old thatched-roof house.
"To the end, lad," he replied slowly, "to the end."
Phil Cousineau, The Art of Pilgrimage
|This is Eduardo, or Lalo as he's known to everyone, showing off his kitten near his home in the callejón just below Ana's place.|