October 3, 2019. I had exited the Bergamo airport in Italy and had taken the train to Rovato, from where I was supposed to switch platforms to board a train to Verona. I had packed most of my belongings into one big suitcase.

I had tried my best to travel light for my 66-day stay so that I would have no reason to feel encumbered. But Rovato being perhaps a minor station, had no elevator, which meant I had to lug 23 kilos down a flight of stairs and up another. I took a deep breath and set forth. Ordinarily, this wouldn't have felt like such a Herculean task, but I had been on the road for more than 16 hours and had been surviving on no sleep. I motivated myself by imagining my partner standing on the platform at Auer, waiting for me. It had been almost three months since we had had the pleasure of being together in the same physical space. The book I was reading, Mother, by Sarah Knott, was keeping me excellent company.