The day was long and expected to be warm and bright although at dusk the fog was quite thick.
The road was large and the places absolutely stunning.
Everything that he came to see reverberated in his chest like an echo
“It will be a sunny journey”, he told himself.
“Sunny” replied the echo, like the refrain of a joyful song.
But the fog didn’t clear away. On the contrary, it became thicker and thicker.
“So what? It’s so beautiful here”, he thought, fascinated by the road and by the faces of other pilgrims.
“Here!” retorted the echo, on a small voice.
Here and there or at a crossroad he took another direction than the others.
At noon his path became narrower and the storm was about to burst.
“Maybe I will be spared by thunders and lightning!”
“Lightning” replied the echo, sounding somehow frightening.
“Maybe I should have followed the others”…
“The others” retorted the echo with disappointment.
The whirlwind calmed down, but the sky remained covered. However he felt less exposed.
“I’m safe now!” he thought.
“Safe” answered the echo with sadness.
The sunsets with gray sky are less disturbing, he meditated.
“In a short while it will be dark anyway”.
“Dark anyway” said the echo making him startle.
The long day suddenly seemed short.
He was the only one who reached the top of the mountain.
He was supposed to be happy. Or proud. Or fulfilled.
The other ones had got lost, most probably.
“Only I managed to get here, only I alone!”
“Alone!” replied the echo, sardonically.