I spent last night on a train. This morning, the light streamed in the window at 4:30 am and I turned over on my top bunk and moved the curtain to one side of the window and propped myself up on my elbow and looked out at the countryside. We were about 2 hours from Kyib (Kiev). I stared at the little houses nestled in the countryside, and at the wild roses, and the little gardens that are planted along the railtracks, in small, tidy, square little plots, the little sprouts rising in the dark black soil in tidy long rows. I stared at the fog rising from the ponds and I watched the sunrise. A most pale, beatiful, pink--the gradual lightening of the day. I thought about the two men I have ever been in love with. I think about why I'm talking to one after seven years of distance, and why I'm not talking to the other. Then I stop thinking about it and just stare at the countryside, and rock with the rythm of the train. Then I put my head down and go back to sleep.

Today is my last day in this beautiful, magnificent country. This beautiful country that does not sell postcards. I finally found some today in Kiev. Today is my last day. I have been here for two weeks and it has been my first vacation in almost a year and it has felt wonderful. I have been working at an orphanage and I am in love with these children and now Issac has 350 brothers and sisters. I cried when I left Urak, the neigborhood that had been my home for two weeks. I am far too sentimental.

Well, now I am out of time at this internet cafe in Kiev. I have to go. I will write more later.