‘The past is never dead. It’s not even past.’                                                      William Faulkner, Requiem for a Nun   I’m standing on the jetty at Arcachon, waiting for the ferry that will take me and the bike and a dozen other passengers across to Cap Ferret. Today, putting all other thoughts behind me, I begin the journey again, …

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No one saves us but ourselves. We ourselves must walk the path.”   Buddha The sky is copper-bronze, and the sun a burnished shield of cadmium orange. Streaks of thin black cirrus clouds are black silhouettes, as if painted on a Greek vase. Homer, it seems, can be addictive. I am atop the Dune du Pilat, …

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be the dawn and dusk of a world in constant flux – embrace becoming!                         Haiku I said my goodbyes to Landes almost as soon as I set off this morning, and though only a dotted line on the map, a new département makes it feel like I’m making progress. I’ve been riding parallel with …

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