(Recently found in a notebook I forgot I had.)

Commerce, street-style. Buying and selling Tattoo tickets is a full-contact sport. The Sikh in the plaid turban’s a sharp talker. I can’t even get much of a sound out–dry throat left over from last night’s farewells, some mist behind my eyes. Last night in Edinburgh.

Everyone from SUISS has scattered. I left Swetha and Sarah near the Book Festival. I’m glad they were the last people I hung out with here–they’re both genuine and mature and sweet and I’ll miss them terribly. Sarah’s talking about trying to get a job teaching Spanish in the US. I promised her I’d do anything I could to help her out.

But last night was emotional. We had the farewell party/show, then went out to a karaoke place. My guess is that we were steered that way to cut down on tears. I keep watching the video I shot from the center of the knot of people singing “Bohemian Rhapsody.” I guess it’s the light or something but everyone looks like they’re in slow motion.

(It tails off here, getting embarrassing and maudlin.  You can only imagine.  A short-lived crush cycle is described, and some more thoughts about how wonderful Edinburgh is.  After I wrote this I walked across town to my hostel, which was okay, and took some pictures along Princes Street.  Nobody was home at the hostel when I got there except some annoying American girls–the room was enormous and co-ed–who were going out to get bombed on a Friday night in Edinburgh.  I’d had an almost all-nighter Thursday night, so I went to sleep at about 9:30, woke up briefly when everyone came home at 3, and slept soundly until my watch alarm woke me to go to the airport.  It rained on my way to the bus stop, on the bus going to the airport, and definitely when I walked outside at the airport to get to the shuttle bus to the plane.  Everyone on the plane was soaking wet and miserable, and I didn’t really feel like dealing with the couple I sat with who couldn’t understand how I’d spent more than three days “doing” Edinburgh.)