Buenos dias todos los tontos.

The journal's closed. Get lost.

Sesenta y seis.

There were living yellow grass, colorful trees, foxes, and rabbits. A car that gave me a lift to the park was driven by a woman from the Sagebrush States. She looked like a woman from the Sagebrush States, so she was from the Sagebrush States. Bleak wind and all that. I was leaping through the park along the waterside until I saw a metal fence, and took the last picture then. Access denied, the end of a road. I'd got over the fence and walked two or three hundred meters more. There wasn't any reasonable reason to do it. There wasn't any reasonable reason to take a bicycle trip across South America. I brought my arse to a rock, there was a little bird on another. She asked me: "Poo-tee-weet?" Well, nearly it. As many things in my life, she looked absolutely senseless. I threw a stone at this bird, and she flew away immediately. The journey is over. Stupid bird. Now I hadn't any purposes to stay there.

I turned away then, for the long walk back to the North.

Sesenta y cinco.

One more little town - so what? I've been full to the throat about it. The last one. The southmost one. There was only one point to go on the south side of Ushuaia - a forest in the national park, so I went to it.

Sesenta y quatro.

One more thing bout Punta Arenas - it has the best cemetery in Sudamerica. Well, or there was just suitable weather for shooting.