I remember it like it was yesterday — our first conversation. It flowed easily, almost naturally, as if we’d known each other forever. The words came on their own, like a mountain stream cutting its way through green valleys — clear, unstoppable. We never ran out of topics or inspiration. Spirituality, distant travels, the very nature of reality — it all wove together into the threads of our conversation, building a bridge between two worlds that had until then been separate.

Then I confided something simple to her, something that truly touches my soul: how the small things bring me joy. Fresh air after a storm. Raindrops dancing on my face.

She understood.

Her eyes shone in that moment with a deep, special light — like stars recognizing their own reflection on still water. I knew she understood, more deeply than any word could capture. She felt that same quiet joy of living. Every sentence of hers was like a discovery, and as she spoke, a wave of delight rose in me, spilling over like the sea. She seemed unreal, almost ethereal — and yet so close, like a lost piece of my soul that had finally found its way home.

A Shared Path Emerges

In that intimate atmosphere, I confided in her my thought about the Camino de Santiago. To me, it was never just a walk, but a rite of passage into the spiritual world — a pilgrimage I had long planned but never dared to begin. Inside, I carried a quiet reproach: why hadn’t I started sooner, why had I put off that step for so long.

But now I know. I know it had to be this way. In fact — I had to wait. Wait for her. My companion on the road.