Back again after more travels. By train, not plane, so was not directly subject to the ashes phenomenon.
Appreciated greatly having nothing in particular to do, truly vacating. In the sunny streets of Amsterdam and along its innumerable canals, I was not so much wandering as just being where I was. Every shifting patch of sky, stone, earth, water, light an altar.
Stepping in to visit Van Gogh, Vermeer, Rembrandt, I found them this time in my belly and heart. They came pouring in, luminously alive stroke by stroke.
Return to Paris like summer, the city mine as ever and yet new again.