When I got to Bologna, the most awful thing happened. My laptop died. Broke. Finito. Whatever was wrong with it, there was nothing I could do to fix it, which was deeply frustrating as I so desperately wanted to write. Having had too much fun in Sevilla left me with a ‘writing debt’ to myself. Not exactly the state I like to be.
I had come to cherish my evenings to myself, when I would unwind and write about the days tales, or remember funny stories from previous cities that had yet been recorded, or ponder thoughts that had journeyed with me throughout the day. Slowly and yet, surely, I have become dependent on my laptop and these moments as an outlet to celebratate my joys, vent my frustrations, and ask questions as they arose. Without a tool to express myself, what was I to do?
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