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I still stagger and fall. Of course I have that, it happens to me all the time, you just have to get very careful about it, because it’s inappropriate for an elderly chap to register authentically his feelings, you know, because they really could be interpreted, so you really have to get quite covert as you get older or you have to find some avuncular way of responding, but still, you just, really are just, you’re wounded, you stagger, and you fall.

—Leonard Cohen at 72

In 50 years, will I look at love with the same starry-eyed mysticism as I do now?

Will I be satisfied, having loved enough, requited and not?

In my dotage, will I be proud to say that I was adored once, too?

Will I still fall?

What an overwhelming experience.

There was barely any time to explore; we took one walk and pretty much stayed within a 10km radius. Too much reading, testing, and meeting to do anything else. It felt like the time went flying by, yet dragged on, the longer I was from home.

As an introvert, you fall back on memories and past experiences, and it drives reflection and re-evaluation.

I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t affect me. I learned more about myself in the last two weeks than I did in the last year, and I’ll be writing about it for weeks, if not months.

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