This, dear reader, is the end of these travel logs. Originally, [[toronto, ontario, canada]] should have been. But I kept straying from the original plan, and so this page did too. The stereotype of one big, final, conclusive, moralising ending is overplayed — if for good reason. But in line with what I think now, that travelling, thinking, writing, etc is meaningful when it is meaningful, not necessarily at its completion, I will conclude with the following scene. Tomorrow is my first day of class. My roommate is playing Roblox at his desk. I have more possessions now, certainly more than would fit in a small backpack, the exact backpack I plan to carry school supplies that were once remnants of a past era. My dorm, unlike most of my gap year cohort, is not decorated with global possessions I've intentionally purchased. Still, I drink from a NOLS [[alaska|Alaska]] water bottle; a cigar cutter gifted in [[zanzibar, tanzania]] is on my desk; the notebook that went with me to every country is in the bottom of my bag. I hope the lack of the sweet note of a clean, final conclusion doesn't deceive. Like the knick-knacks that crowd my dorm, the remnants are stuck with me, for better or for worse. My class tomorrow is 10am: a required English writing class. Almost certainly for the better. I love it here in the Southern Part of Heaven, just as I have loved it everywhere else. Thank you all for reading. I feel very lucky to be where I am; rooted, immersed, awestruck.