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I asked a friend what the sermon was like at mass today and the reading was from when Jesus walked on water and then Peter asked to join him, but when Peter started walking, he fell in. Jesus put his hand out to him to help him. The moral of the story at my friend’s church this morning is that Peter took a risk, which was good, but he didn’t have faith, bad.

In keeping with my “hormigas” (ants) that benevolently held up the perimeter of our apartment in Zahara during our trip and at the end pointed to the same conclusion, that is ?, there are no answers in the back of the book, sometimes we just have to go blindly to the next step armed only with questions.

I had a vivid dream in Zahara one night where I was crossing a big iconic bridge that appeared sketched from a charcoal pencil, it was moving up and down almost as a rope bridge, but it appeared as large and ominous as a a real bridge, and all around me the seas were dark and stormy and then the bridge came to an abrupt end and if I kept going I would plunge into the white-capped sea so I turned and went back towards the city that looked like Gotham. And I woke up. Disturbed.

Perhaps I should have leapt from the bridge into the turgid waters, perhaps not. But I didn’t.

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