Maybe it was the Couscous

I make my way to the airport, time to leave Morocco. I feel sick, my stomach all in knots. Hot and cold streaks, a fever for certain. By the time I return to Rome, my body is engaging in full body shakes, shivers when I am hot. Frequent trips to the lou. I awake, one more hectic day in Rome, some peace in Copenhagen, chaos in Newark, and solace in Denver. It seems my travels are done and I find myself home. Food poisoning, ravaged, I struggle to reclaim my reserves. I am filled with so many wonderful memories.