The nights we wandered through Trier, up by the brewery, through the old town, and down to the river. They are luminous in my memory. As we walked those streets I was always taken with the atmosphere. The streets of the town were dim, quiet, filled with the smells of bread and baking. House windows along those narrow lanes and alleyways glowed and made me wonder what went on behind them, who the people were, what they did. Every now and then, we’d pass a house that burned coal or wood for heat. I cannot smell those aromas without thinking of you to this day. When I travel, I walk the streets of the small towns and cities I visit, looking for those same feelings I once had when we went among the houses through the dark.