It was brave to leave the group. First time alone in a foreign land, self-directed travel. Balls.
It was dumb to carry so many books. Braudel, Joyce, Euripides, Aristotle, a hefty catalog of the Post Impressionism exhibit at the Royal Academy of Art. Ten volumes altogether, in their own shoulder bag.
Elation and despair. Never more alive, never more unhappy.
Not sure travel and lovers mix.