Russia, Poland, and the Czech Republic were beautiful in the sense of old history and time were wafting around the buildings and streets. You became emerged in the pure essence of places it seemed. Every statue seemed to have a sorrowful memory of what happened in its lifetime, especially gravestones. Granite and marble faces crying out in an ethereal voice for some sort of vindication, joy, or pain. I really don�t understand it myself, but I couldn�t shake off the presence that enveloped me during that time.

I really don�t know what to say about the things I did, and, frankly, few would be interested.

I will say that I found where my soul has gone, and I found that you don�t need to die to feel dead.

. . . And . . .

I don�t think I am going to find something to make me feel alive again.

This trip has given me a realization that the things I do pale in the comparison of the world.

It is a very humbling experience and a very daunting one as well.