The noisy chatter of birds and a solitary cockerel are now my only companions.
The cooing of pigeons woo me from this place to another lifetime.
The intermittent buzz of cicadas and the sweet smell of eucalyptus is replaced by English hedgerows, bracken I trod as a child, horse chestnut and oak.
I took the road less travelled I pondered, looking out towards the flat horizon of the pampas.
Fields of harvested barley interspersed with stout Calden trees offer shade for a couple of horses, a brief respite in the stifling midday heat.
The cockerel has now casually ambled out of sight pecking for grain and I feel his absence like a fellow traveller who has lost his companion.
We are but travellers heading towards an unknown destination, sometimes in the company of others, a brief reunion at a turnstile and then the inevitable parting of ways.
We must boldly continue this journey alone, accompanied only by the murmur of the wind and the whisper of our dreams…