Germany somewhere by the looks of it, "Abflug". Arriving or Departing? I honestly don't remember. Those were the years of a flight a day at times. Monday- Munich, Tuesday- Milano, Wed- Hamburg, Thursday- Paris... Friday- leave for Marrakech.
I miss it. Some people hate it, traveling, being uprooted from one's routines, I crave it. Last night I dreamed I was in Barcelona again, back at that bistro by the port, the one with the squid tapas and the waiters in white jackets, hair slicked back with pomade.
Alarm clock, groaning because we're out of milk and cereal, throw some waffles together, quick get your library books, don't miss the bus. I'm off to the farm stand and the hardware store to get the lawnmower fixed.