Good morning.
15 July 2025
Yesterday, we trudged through the heavy, humid air for miles to catch a trolley that promised a riveting tour of the city. We hopped on and off at a few stops, one of which was a riverfront shopping area—its name slips my mind. There, we picked up a handful of trinkets; for me, it was two Harley-Davidson T-shirts, priced in true tourist-trap fashion. Still, I now have two Savannah, Georgia Harley shirts to add to the collection. It’s a thing among Harley enthusiasts. I don’t ride much anymore, but I still have the bike—so why not have the shirts? From there, our path led us up a tall, steep flight of steps, so steep it felt more like a mountain ascent than a city stroll. By the time we made it back to our abode, I was completely spent and collapsed into the first overstuffed chair just inside the doorway.
“Travel makes one modest. You see what a tiny place you occupy in the world.” — Gustave Flaubert