It's funny how my life has been meted out in three week increments. The last three have been filled with Linda and I crusading for the DNC and struggling to do what we came to Chicago for. Now that the canvassing is over, we can concentrate on the act of leaving, that which involves final images, final greetings, and of course, the ever-present bureaucracy of being an American citizen.

We are, however, beginning to understand something of European leisure--the dining and obsessive conversations that pay little regard to deadlines, bottomlines, any Euclidean lines really.

In three weeks, we have also seen much of Chicago--marching through suburbs and urban neighborhoods indiscriminately, experiencing the friendly suspicion of America. This initial job has instilled in us misanthropy and a new awe at the endearingness of humans. Of course, I will never do it again.

Last night we closed out that stint with a party, as all things must go out. There was food, liquor, and laughter, but there was also a quality of the present which can never be achieved again. Nor should it.

This is the way of our bonding: transient. A litany of friends made in short, desperate jolts, separated by increasing miles. Of course, when we return to New Orleans, there will be our friends, those who stood by us as we watched our city go not up in flames but go somewhere, a city in hiding. And when we return, we'll hide there too.

But for now, our eyes are open, elsewhere.