And nothing happens...

I went out early in the morning wearing my greatcoat and with my pinewood stick in my hand. The wind was cold, as usual in these last winter days, but the sun was shining. Sunlight is quite blinding.

I began my walk, without a destination, along white country roads about which I don't know anything, I don't know where they will take me, I don't know where they will arrive. I don't care about it.

Leaving the last houses of the village, there's nobody. Farms are small dots lost in the landscape. Far away, the houses of another village perched over a hill.

Few grazing horses.

I have walked for many kilometers, slowly, alone, on these solitary country roads. The sound of my steps is the only companion I had and my thoughts run freely over these open spaces.



Well, this is a diary of a solitary walker but I've got to admit that this long walk has been characterized by the most common event which can happen to who usually walks along country roads: nothing happens, absolutely nothing.


I haven't met anyone and what I have seen hardly can be expressed through words or a photo. This is the true and genuine beauty of walking alone on country roads: nothing happens. One may go back home very tired but satisfied for this slowness which doesn't bring anything important but can surprise you for its beauty and pure simplicity.