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Flying over Italy was incredible: the mountains — the mountains. I decided I must live in a place with mountains when I am old.

It’s so different from flying into anywhere in the States. There aren’t suburbs in the same way as the U.S. Everything is green, with groups of little orange-topped houses and buildings in the middle of hills and green and mountains. Nestled is what they is, for sure. Crazy.

Being here gets no less surreal. Two nights ago, we walked from the Spanish Steps to the Coliseum. We grabbed hands to run screaming across a dark fast street to the ruins, where we danced and reveled in front of the Palatine. Everything is crazy, crazy.

Last night we took the Metro back to the Spanish Steps to pray. I ran up to the top and sat down on the steps. Looked at Rome, thought, wrote, prayed. We are so lucky: we are literally here in Rome to do whatever we want all day every day for seven more weeks. In.Credible.

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