Before the pandemic I travelled several times a year to all sorts of destinations. Two years in lock down, and just when it felt safe enough to do the bit of travelling outside of camping and quick getaways, my mother fell ill. Resetting and reprioritizing all of my plans to venture across the pond like the good old days and just immerse myself in all things novel writing worthy. A hundred times I stood in this very spot and snapped a photograph, each time as if it were my first time seeing St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. Dozens of times I strolled down the narrowest of cobble-stoned streets of Paris. Always in aw over the smallest of villages perched along the hillside along the Amalfi coast. Timeless train travel through Switzerland Right there… …and here Dean Village in Edinburgh Reminders of Days gone by through Ireland I long for it all