Standing here, in this quiet house where I can hear the birds chirping out back, I think I’m kind of getting the concept of closure. It’s no big dramatic before-after. It’s more like that melancholy feeling you get at the end of a really good vacation. Something special is ending, and you’re sad, but you can’t be that sad because, hey, it was good while it lasted, and there’ll be other vacations, other good times.

But I also know that sometimes Adam needs to do things the dramatic way. He is fond of the Grand Gesture

I realize then that it's not enough to know what someone is called. You have to know who they are.

Travelling's not something you're good at. It's something you do. Like breathing. You can't work too much at it, or it feels like work. You have to surrender yourself to the chaos. To the accidents.

It's nice, this. The canal." He looks at me. "You." "I'll bet you say that to all the canals.

I’ve been feeling something else. Like I’m about to be sucked into something powerful and painful.

Sometimes we meet people and are so symbiotic with them, it's as if we are one person, with one mind, one destiny