Back In the U. S. of A.

If you click the picture above you will see the house on the hillside, beautifully perched below the morning fog, in northern Tuscany. I took this picture early one morning from where I stood on a roadside hill I had climbed. It nicely represents the feeling of the sublime I had, morning after morning, walking the roads and little trails.

The quiet was remarkable and necessary. I don't know why I need quiet, what part of my experience brings me back to it and its powerful cathartic offering. But, this trip renewed my appreciation of it. Maybe my cares and woes are just leached from my body out into the quiet---in environments of noise, the cares and woes have nowhere to go?

Since returning two days ago, I avoid the news, web cruising or any media, except books (currently, "The Kalahari Typing School for Men"). I am in a restful place, the place that is open and allows insights---some good and nourishing, some revealing a spectrum of regret. I crest with them like a big blue boat on a rolling sea. I seem to hang in air and them settle into the eye of something looming. Words elude me.

So. Italy was more than I expected. I am getting some other pictures together. I would like the photos to reveal the trip somehow, but, as always, the experience of the travel is rarely revealed in the photos. Too, it usually takes me a while to articulate what I have experienced, so off-balanced am I by most anything. You'd think I was some ninny if you could conceive of my tipsy nature. Someday I will be stable and sure and easy.