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“The end of all our exploring / Will be to arrive where we started / And know the place for the first time”
T.S. Eliot

Walking makes the path, and on glancing back one sees the path that will never be trod again.

Wanderer, your footprints are
the path, and nothing else;
wanderer, there is no path,
the path is made by walking.
Walking makes the path,
and on glancing back
one sees the path
that will never be trod again.
Wanderer, there is no path—
Just your wake in the sea.

taken from: “Proverbios y cantares XXIX” [Proverbs and Songs 29], Campos de Castilla (1912); trans. Betty Jean Craige in Selected Poems of Antonio Machado (Louisiana State University Press, 1979)

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