Last night, I dreamt that we never left Guatemala, but they did. We got to know each other better, you and I. We sang some more. (I keep thinking about that song, haha; we really would make great pets. I wonder if you enjoyed that even half as much as I did.)

Down there, nothing from our past really mattered-- not much, anyway. It felt like starting over. I wonder what you think of me, or what any of them thought. What did the locals think? Especially the women we saw every day at the nutrition center. It's so weird to consider; it didn't really cross my mind when we were down there, but now that we're not... I can't get the thought out of my head. When you're in an unfamiliar place, it's so much easier to get out of your own head and focus on your surroundings, or on others, instead.

Tuesday afternoon, I left work and went to the Belvedere to read my book (David Sedaris's "When You Are Engulfed in Flames"-- definitely worth the read, so you know). But it was such a beautiful day, I found it difficult to focus on anything but the sky. There was a man who walked to the edge of the pavement, and he was looking at the river. He looked at it as if he had never seen it before, as if it had formed just yesterday. Perhaps he noticed me noticing him, perhaps he didn't; either way, he approached me, and introduced himself as Darrel. Darrel looked at the Ohio in that way because he truly was looking at it for the first time-- he is from Alaska. I got to know him a little, but I still couldn't get that image out of my mind... that way his face lit up, as he laid eyes on something entirely unfamiliar.

It's a lonely feeling, being unable to describe an incredible experience. Even lonelier is spending so little time with the people you enjoyed that experience with.

Adjusting back into my routine has been difficult, to say the least.