What is most difficult for me, right now, is the feeling of not having my individual self, of not having simple alone time, self time–to read, to wander, to write. To someone who is not a voracious reader, I think that it does not occur him or her how necessary, how sacred, quiet reading time is–and in the bustle of traveling, and now arriving and exploring, even I had put it on the backburner. But I am remembering, and I need it fiercely. I need all these words I am writing. I need to call my friends and vent and laugh my angst out.