The world was made up of people putting one foot in front of the other and a life might appear ordinary simply because the person living it had been doing so fro a long time.

“ had learned that it was the smallness of people that filled him with wonder and tenderness, and the loneliness of that too. He’s helped by strangers along his way, people who hear about what he’s trying to do and are moved to tell him their own secrets in return for Harold sharing his hopes. He never really seeks people out, but he’s polite and harmless and people begin to take an interest in what he’s doing. “ He trod paving stones again, and was struck by both their smallness and by their regularity.” – He has his ups and downs, like anyone on a journey, but the peaceful moments of observation as he walks are some of my favorite parts. Harold’s way of looking at the world he passes is marvelous. Now that he had accepted the slowness of himself, he took pleasure in the distance he covered.” – “ On he went, one foot in front of the other. He sends a message to his friend to let her know he’s coming and he sets off, with nothing but the clothes he wore out of the house that morning. If he walks all the way there, he tells himself, there’s no way she’ll die. After walking much further than usual, a conversation with a stranger sparks an idea: he will walk across the country to see his friend. As he walks, he starts to feel a strong desire to do something out of the ordinary. He reaches the mailbox and decides to go past it. Harold writes a note in reply and sets off to the mailbox to send it. The letter comes from a hospice his friend is dying of cancer and she sent the note to say goodbye. One morning, recent retiree Harold Fry is eating a mundane breakfast with his wife, who has become a stranger who sleeps in the spare room, when he gets a letter from an old friend. Read it: if you’d enjoy witnessing the adventures of an aging, mild-mannered Englishman. Other elements: walking, befriending strangers, what’s really important in life, marriage, growing old, mortality. The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry by Rachel Joyce

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