Once more, and with feeling.

Airport this afternoon, heading West, and then Wester still. In Sydney there’ve been walks by the water under sun and moon, the art gallery on a drizzly Saturday, a neverending stream of baked goods on the kitchen counter, a scoop of lychee rose petals while the stories unraveled. The baby is, in the truest and best way, a bean.

In Singapore, there will be the mad happy rush of lunch dates, and dinner dates, and, quite possibly, tea dates. And then— and then I trade in the Times for the Guardian, Park Slope for Covent Garden, the subway for the best seat—front row, upper deck—on a big red bus. Chances are good the starry eyes stay the same.

I’ll be taking a break for the blogging for a bit, ’cause sometimes a girl just needs a moment. Excuse me while I powder my nose.