Kompressor has been to the Vatican. On New Year's Day. There is much more to tell than that (her eyes have been pecked out by pigeons in Venice), but I shall save that for later.
Maren is asleep upstairs in the hostel room and I am back at the same coffee shop blitzed outta my mind on caffeine and internetin' live no traveller should.
Sunday I go home.
Friday I am homeless, perhaps it is time to go see Tom. I think that would be nice.
In case anyone needed proof that I have no shame, I will have many splendid pictures in the next week. I love all of you in this year of the future, 2005.
I do not, however, love many trains, planes, and buses. Getting from Venice to London was a 12 hour ordeal of sexy funness.
Hmm… it's only forever?