i’m finally going through the 9,162, or so, pictures i took in europe at the end of 2019. i didn’t know why i’d put it off for so long. i figured it was because of all of the other drama going on in my life … but i think i was trying to protect myself. weird. but as i look through the pictures, and i’m just looking at italy right now, my heart / soul / whathaveyou just aches. i don’t know why, but i want to be in europe again so badly that i’m almost in physical pain. each picture represents a memory; memories so palpable it’s overwhelming.