Holly-Good.

Still awash in a benevolent glow from the day before the day before yesterday, Jack takes stock.

Eight hundred kilometres, there and back.

A volcanic plateau millions of years old.

A road full of pilgrims.

And a bison.

He thinks for a moment of the joke – what’s the difference between a buffalo and a bison?

He giggles to himself, and carries on.

A statue made entirely from cannons, a roman theatre with ice cream and a thunderstorm that broke over him like a blessing.

A cascade of comfort in the middle of the hottest summer ever.

It felt good.

The trip was good.

The grapes, sunflowers, the stark, dark rocks straggling across parched fields. The grapes again.

All go(o)d.

And then, the music.

Lift up your voice.

Rejoice.

 

Good!