...Et Finis

It's 3 o'clock in the morning. I don't normally suffer from insomnia, but it makes a certain twisted sense that, having woken half an hour ago, I'd decide to write my final blog entry now.

As far as I'm concerned, this is an hour reserved for sleep, except in extreme cases: childbirth, preparing to catch an early morning transatlantic flight, lovers' farewells.

I certainly don't make a habit of sitting at my computer in a predawn lacuna, trying to translate something felt to something verbalized.

What's haunting me now are all the things I didn't say.

I could have written about winter oceans, the crooked streets of Orvieto, a cocoa-colored mountain covered with a fine dusting of snow, the smell of eucalyptus trees in the fog.

Over the past nine months, I have been traversing the geography of my past, trying to map it onto the landscape of my present. It's been quite a virtual journey, and although there's much more I could have explored, it's time now for me to focus on my future.

I'm still not sure why I've written this travelogue, but here it is.