No Pan, No Han

The world becomes more cloudy than it is.
Not the pretty whispy kind  of cloudy, but dark thunderhead cloudy.
Your double shot of espresso has worn off. The twice run, same bean double shot, that is.
And even though you were convinced that there is probably more hydration and less caffeine content in your drink, now you're left to wonder. Will you make it?
Voices are speaking at you, and your usual sunshine patience is no where to be found.
The sunflowers that comb the hills seem to have sucked all the sunshine out of the sky, and words, for you, seem impossible. Then you remember.
Then you remember you ate a croissant 5 hours ago and have been walking since.
And your body is relieved that there is nothing wrong.
Nothing that bread can't fix.
You pull the still warm loaf from your bag, and the clouds begin to blow away.
And suddenly you feel sorry for your silent treatments.
And try to explain the word Hangry in Italian, and German, and Spanish.
And once you feel moderately understood, you continue to walk.
Because that is what you do.
This is Your Camino.
No pan, no Han.