{On film. Long ago.}
Various overseas trips lie documented in a series of large red cloth-covered albums. Adhered to the page in grid formation oft out of sequence and different to how I had remembered it. Looking at them reminds me of where I have been. Looking at them I realise I have learnt a lot and that I still have a lot to learn. Leafing through the pages, I see the streets I have walked in Berlin, Vienna, New Orleans, Budapest, London; I see places from Portugal, Switzerland, New Zealand, France, Italy, Spain, and I want to see more. I still wish to see more.
If a man could pass through Paradise in a dream, and have a flower presented to him as a pledge that his soul had really been there, and if he found that flower in his hand when he awoke,—Ay!—and what then?
(Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1772–1834)
