I counted my footsteps in sets of one hundred. One hundred steps, look up. One hundred steps, drink water. One hundred steps, ask yourself: Why are you doing this?
Fatigue arrives as a teacher. The body’s signals—blisters, hunger, the tilt of the head toward sleep—force a triage of priorities: when to rest, when to press on, when to listen to the city’s quieter languages. Decisions made under fatigue are honest: corners cut, bridges crossed, apologies given. They reveal character more clearly than any planned act. 100 hours walking towards the callary chapter 1
A shifting expanse of gray dunes and petrified flora. I counted my footsteps in sets of one hundred