The End (in 150 words).

Finally, I am in Finisterre. This was the end of the known world in ancient times, and it still has a ragged, liminal feel. It's three days' walk from Santiago, through misty eucalyptus forests where strips of torn bark lie strewn across the path. It also feels appropriate for me personally. Of the last eight years, I have spent four in America, and four in the Middle East, interspersed with a few summers of psychonauting; I feel that I have been exploring the limits of my own known world, and now the time has come for a period of consolidation. One day I would like to come back, throw my telephone into the ocean, and walk back to Austria, entirely unencumbered. When that day comes, there will be no blog to read, but I hope that you will still see fit to applaud me, clapping with one hand.

Eucalyptus forests.

Final stretch.

Finisterre.

The Cape - the end of the ancient world.