Walking several hundred miles through Spain allows a lot of time for stopping and smelling the roses. It is travel at a pace perfectly suited for observation and reflection, and for discovering the extraordinary within the ordinary. Maybe it also facilitates flights of fancy...

Aching and tiring after walking 40 km (about 24 miles) with my heavy pack, and with night approaching, I spotted this scene above an intersection outside of a town. It had a ceremonial quality: 

The lamps gathering to revere the moon just before they switched on to humbly emulate their goddess. A nightly ritual visible only to the initiated...

Or maybe to just one dusty, dirty, hungry, thirsty, exhausted pilgrim.