Rila Monastery

First of all, congratulations to the Yang to my Yin on the birth of his son. And, yes, I'll be keeping a lookout for the other six signs of the apocalypse. All my love to you, man.

I've spent the past three days at Rila Monastery, three hours or so from Sofia, a place so isolated the Turks had trouble finding it (and they ruled the area for quite a while). A quiet little place, surrounded by mountains, snowed caps in the distance. Three times I'd leave my cell to listen at the church to their mass, to the rolling tones of their voices. (If my beard gets any longer, I might be able to blend in.)

But now having joined the European Union, the whole nation is still caught in the ripple effect. My guide book's now pretty much useless as far as prices are concerned, and I ate honey and graham crackers yesterday because the powers of capitalism have managed to find what the Turks only occasionally could.

I miss you all. Each day, the ache to return home gets stronger and stronger. But I still haven't yet reached the middle of the labyrinth, and I'd love to pay a visit to some great friends before I fly back to the world waiting to catch me in America.

I pray all is well with you... with all of you. If I had some hardcore magic at my disposal, I'd do what I can to ensure it. As it stands, I have hope; hope sharpened and focused like a ray of light. That, at least, I've learned. So I send a little light your way... you've given me so much already.