The World Cracks Open For Those Willing

Travel Releases Spontaneity. You Become A Godlike Creature Full Or Choice, Free To Visit The Stately Pleasure Domes, Make Love In The Morning, Sketch A Bell Tower, Read A History Of Byzantium, Stare For One Hour At The Face Of Leonardo Da Vinci's 'madonna Dei Fusi.' You Open, As In Childhood, And--for A Time--receive This World. There's Visceral Aspect, Too--the Huntress Who Is Free. Free To Go, Free To Return Home Bringing Memories To Lay On The Hearth.

Five Tender Apricots In A Blue Bowl, A Brief And Exact Promise Of Things To Come.

Venice, The Most Touristy Place In The World, Is Still Just Completely Magic To Me.

Living In A Small Italian Hilltown, And Having Lived In A Small Town In South Georgia, I Understand That You Can Recognize A Family Gene Pool By The Lift Of An Eyebrow, Or The Length Of A Neck, Or A Way Of Walking.

The Urge To Travel Feels Magnetic. Two Of My Favorite Words Are Linked: Departure Time. And Travel Whets The Emotions, Turns Upside Down The Memory Bank, And The Golden Coins Scatter.