I finally figured it out. Walking back over the river to my car tonight, under daybright nearly full moon and iridescent remnants of last week's first snow--Durango reminds me of Krumlov. Almost painfully so, the low and stony river, the spiral streets with no cars, the way the snow reflects off the sky lighting the entire city in eery cast-off tones. Even the way the mountains stand off, withdrawn, the perspective of the surrounding hills and the castle tower. The revelation was so strong it took me a moment to take a breath and bring myself back.
The moon is full and being indoors is killing me. I didn't expect to miss the field this profoundly, to feel the pull so strongly after only a month out here. I miss the girls and the routine and the very act of being there--home and away and righteous.
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