Last year at this time, you were preparing for this: Two years ago, you were preparing for this: Four years ago, this: Before that, there were other places that called to you. Places built of stone and wood. Castles and cathedrals, palazzos, museums, chocolate shops, and tiny bakeries. Libraries, town squares, cemeteries--they called to you in almost a sacred way. They still pluck at your imagination and beg you to people them and layer them with stories. Sometimes you have to wander down narrow alleyways until you reach a long band of road stretching out into the distance before you figure out what that story is. Meandering is something you do well. You meander like a champion. But, eventually, you have to get somewhere, so you hitch up your britches and move along. These days, you've been moving along at quite a pace, though often it feels like a snail's pace. But now your snail's pace has brought you to the end of the road. You're just ab...