06/10/2025 - Fuck around and find out.

I started walking again today with a long stage ahead, which meant waking up, getting ready, and stepping out by 7am. The night was still dark, and the harvest moon brighter than ever, so big it looked like it was landing on the hills. I wandered out of Cacabelos expecting to find small pueblos nearby with cafés open, but there was nothing for seven kilometers. I walked in silence for almost two hours, with no one in sight, just my headlamp lighting the way. It was the kind of solitude that makes my knees a little shaky, when I have to soothe my imagination and remind myself I’m safe.

When I finally reached the first open café, I ordered a coffee and a plate of churros, plain, oily, and strangely flavorless. An older Spanish man sitting nearby began talking to me. He spoke so softly I had to ask him to repeat himself, but his message was clear: take the ancient path through the mountains instead of the modern one that follows the road.

He warned it would be steeper, but worth it. And you know me by now; I’m not one to resist a challenge, especially if it leads me into the mountains again, the place that always feels like home. After the endless flatness of the Meseta, I missed that wildness. So at the crossroads, I didn’t hesitate. I turned right, uphill. It was the best decision I could’ve made. I’m grateful that man appeared at the perfect time. Otherwise, I might have simply followed the yellow arrows.

My mood these last few days has been up and down. My period is coming in three days, which explains a lot. The lightness and fluff have turned into depth and mysticism. Last night, I posted a video of my shadow dancing on the wall. I had called Thea earlier, and we talked for over an hour. After hanging up, I felt full of energy and didn’t want to scroll again, so I blasted music and danced naked. Always a good idea in my personal book of existence.

I loved the way my shadow moved, how sensual, raw, and free it looked. I filmed a short clip and, like last time, found myself hesitating to post it. I kept watching it, loving it, but feeling afraid. How would people react? The day before, I had shared something about being sick and recovering, and now here I was, sexy dancing.

But instead of spiraling like before, I posted it. The impulse felt alive in me, and I wanted to see how my body would respond. Well, I got anxious. My nervous system went into alert mode, even though the reactions were positive. It brought me back to a time when I used to post more sensual content and was slut-shamed for it by my ex and others.

In the morning, I archived it, not out of shame, but because the experience was complete. I had received the answer I was seeking. I don’t want to be perceived through that lens or share my intimacy in that way. It no longer feels aligned. I don’t need validation, nor for anyone to know that this side of me exists.

I’m glad I posted it, though. It gave me closure. I often need to experiment, with my body, my personality, my expression. Dancing, sensuality, and the art of arousal have always been paths to joy for me. But today, I know the medium I truly love for it is reality, or through writing. Maybe someday I’ll explore dance in a different setting, but I don’t feel the need to display it. That chapter feels closed for now.

It ties back to what I said to Thea yesterday: our twenties are for experimenting, choosing, failing, and trying again. It applies to everything: where we live, what we do, who we are around, and even how we want to be perceived. Setting boundaries within that has been a big journey for me. Yesterday, I set one, not because anyone made me feel I had to, but because it felt right.

Sometimes I wonder why we pretend to have it all together. I don’t. I have more direction than I did five or ten years ago, but I’m still figuring it out. And honestly, the best way I’ve discovered is to fuck around and find out.

It felt incredible to be alone in the mountains again. The smell of pine, the cool shade, the view stretching out below; it all brings me back to life. I listened to All About Love: New Visions by bell hooks, a recommendation I’d saved days ago. It’s been so long since a book comforted me the way this one did. It’s not a story, but a weave of thoughts, experiences, and insights on love, everything I’ve been contemplating lately. My desires, doubts, and reflections were all put into words. It felt like reassurance from the universe itself.

If you haven’t read or listened to it (it’s on Spotify), I truly recommend it, especially if you’re a woman. Many passages made me speak out loud in agreement. The peace it brought to my heart was real. I’ll share some of its golden thoughts in my next entries, but for now, I’m too tired to recall them all. They’ll rise again when the moment calls.

Right now, I’m sitting at a wooden table in the albergue. A young Argentinian woman is cooking dinner in the kitchen, Spanish music filling the air. It’s warm and lively, though my focus drifts easily tonight.

Around 1 pm, I had stopped for lunch at a small restaurant with colorful murals of Buddhas, saints, and bright abstract figures. There was a buffet of fresh produce and homemade cakes, and I ordered a chicken pot soup with bread; one of the most comforting meals I’ve had on the Camino.

There, I met a Danish volunteer who asked me about my travels, my work, how I make it all happen. We talked for an hour. I told her to trust her creative power, to follow her joy and believe that the rest would unfold. Because when I’m in an environment I love, surrounded by inspiring people, motivation comes naturally. Creation becomes effortless.

Later, I reached my albergue for the night. A young British man named Connor greeted me, bright, funny, and trying his best to speak French. Half of me found it endearing; the other half just wanted to check in and rest. But I caught myself and decided to enjoy the interaction. He showed me around, then left me to my bed.

For a moment, I had the room to myself, which felt heavenly, until a group of French pilgrims arrived downstairs. I put on my earplugs, turned on my side, and pretended to sleep, only to actually fall asleep for an hour.

Now I’m back at this table, Spanish music still playing from the kitchen, waiting for dinner to be served in fifteen minutes. I’m starving. Tomorrow brings another big stage; only twenty kilometers, but nearly nine hundred meters of elevation. I’ll go to bed early tonight and gather strength for the climb.

With love, Loune.