Moonlight on the canal as we left sitting tonight. Lovely, easy, quiet evening in spring. Dark, yet not dark, almost a velvety violet.
Heading off to America tomorrow, leaving the « old » continent behind for 10 days.
Always have mixed feelings about travels, about coming and going, about stepping away from « home, » even if for a brief, temporary stay « elsewhere. »
While there is in fact no « elsewhere, » no « here or there, » there is, too, in fact here, and there, and elsewhere. One fact does not discount the other.
So I go, not going, and I don’t go, going.
And having never left, I will be back again.