end of chapter 25

 now that I've come to the end of chapter 25 I can say such things as --- Handke is the Herman Melville of walking through landscapes, the Sierra de Gredos is the Moby Dick of the Sierra de Gredos.  Not a good

example, though, because not at all the obsessive, destructive violence and the whale search.   I merely had in mind the great detail of flora and fauna.  At the end we learn of the tiny birds and of the inner sweetness of red rowan berries.  We had such a tree in our back yard in NH but I never though to try tasting the berries.  If I see such a tree somewhere this summer, I should try the berries.  

"after the initial off-putting bitterness, a taste that was more than mere "sweetness": an inwardness (did that exist, an "inward taste"?) all the more inward because the initial bitterness remained present in it."

(Was it appropriate for her, the heroine, to stand on tiptoe? Yes.) 

and before that the great passage on blue, blue sky like the blue of workmens' clothes hanging to dry 

great passages about walking walking walking    Makes me feel good because I can remember years of 

walking, if  not across the Sierra de Gredos, around Plymouth town