I made it home in one piece along with bags of stuff and hundrds of photos and enough weird memories to last me another year of routine. A mixture in my mind such that I can hardly separate the railway ride from the scooters of Albania from my sister breaking down in tears when she saw me for the first time in 20 years.
The house is as it was, the blog seems do-able after three weeks away and I shall wrestle with the camera in the days to come, and the formatting, and the controls and on and on.
The Vespa started first push of the starter and I rode home from the storage locker with a big smile.
And so, tonight, to work.
