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| Constelaciones, by Joan Miro, 1940 |
A few nights ago, as I picked the wilted vegetables out of the kitchen garbage pail in our Barcelona apartment for my meager dinner (a lettuce and cucumber sandwich), my husband groaning in the next room with a bad case of food poisoning, I realized I might finally be done with Europe.
We are returning to the U.S. tomorrow. Despite Lisbon being an incredibly lovely city that looks as if it were created by a team of Disney animators, I'm pretty happy about it. Mostly I miss my cats; I have long suspected that life without cats is simply not worth living, and now I'm sure of it. Also, I look forward to eating any and all food without fear, speaking the language of the people around me, having coffee that tastes more like coffee, and painting pictures like Joan Miro.
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