While looking for a place where I could write about Jessica’s work, the one that would have a European feel to bring me home (something that is more than 100 years old, with wooden walls, brass fixtures, and high ceilings) walking up the hill, and then down the hill, and then up the hill, then down again, on a first evening in which the sun hiding behind Olympics sets in months, I think how blessed I am to be far, far away from wars.