May 26, 1998 St. Peter's is a marvel, so vast and beautiful and cool and filled with treasures and airy heights and pale beams of heavenly light that you don't know where to place your gaze. It is the only building I have ever entered where I have actually felt like sinking to my knees, clasping my hands heavenward, and crying, "Take me home, Lord." No structure on earth would ever look the same to me again. Bill Bryson, Neither Here Nor There We're on the plane. The Pride of the Yankees is ending. It reminds me of Grandmama because of Lou Gehrig's disease. I can't stop sobbing. This movie is fucking sad. I can't believe I left exactly three weeks ago. I feel like so much more than three weeks' worth of life has happened. Florence. Rome. Salzburg. Lake Como. I'm not sure how I feel about being back in the United States. It will be weird returning to life there. I haven't been away from home for this long since my last summer away -- Florida in 1996. I'll be back in Florida tomorrow, for a job interview at a high school. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I feel different. A little piece of Europe is inside of me now. There's so much I didn't see. There are so many places I didn't go. I can't wait to go back. © 1999 ~ 2003 eb