Arrows are my friends. They’re cheerful and yellow and beckon me onwards: ‘Come on Honey, this is the Way’, they seem to say.
If I lose sight of them I become anxious and lonely. I curse myself for taking the arrows for granted and not paying them enough attention. I consider going back to where I saw one last but everyone knows you can never go back. Only forwards, onwards.
I turn and look behind me and can often gain reassurance from the sight of a blue arrow pointing south, towards Fatima. I push on and soon the yellow arrows find me again.
Sometimes there are crosses but these too are friendly. They say ‘Whoa there Nelly! Back up now. This is not the Way you’re looking for’. But mostly it’s the arrows, leading me along the Yellow Way to Santiago.