We walk in the woods under a drizzle and a lot of fog, until we reach a cluster of houses. There is not a living soul, but after a few minutes a hen, cackling, comes towards us, while another in the distance gives it a voice. Then we meet a woman with an umbrella and a blank stare; maybe she didn't notice us either and we wonder if she's not a ghost; we pass a stone house with a half-open entrance door, beyond which candles glimmer, and we go back to the woods. In the rain and fog, we go down a small street full of grass and slippery stones, until we reach another cluster of houses. On a balcony with a tractor underneath there is a guy who greets us with a smile. St asks him in Spanish for directions to Samos and he tells us to take the road behind us and, at the end of it, go left, and th
