(written in the Alkmaar --> Amsterdam train)
I've been in Europe for nearly two weeks now. I fear my feelings about northern Europe are unchanged. It is cold, dark and rainy. The drabness of it all drains me. Even Philippe seems darker, more rainy. Holland has the advantage of splashes of bright colors painted everywhere and nice people. But overall it seems pervaded with despondency. My bad mood seems to be taking a life of its own. I feel tired of the patterns I repeat. I simply don't want to be here.

I feel more and more the preciousness of my time on this planet and I don't want to spend it unhappy. And I cannot be happy in darkness. I need sunlight and heat. Maybe Spain, maybe south France, Italy would be fine. I could live there. But ot the cold north. It's too much.

Maybe Philippe is feeling the same thing. He feels he couldn't live in America. Maybe it haunts him like it haunts me. Or maybe he doesn't love me anymore. Sometimes I wonder how he manged to do it in the first place.

In the Riiksmuseum
I feel much better. I love museums, esp. European ones. So much art of potency filling the space, quiet, many people from all over the world. I know many of these people do not care for what they see, but I know what it means. Each painting is a place to go for me. Both a place to visit and a home to go to.