Mike's Journal – September 19, 1988It's our last night in Positano. I can't believe we have to go. Being with Katherine is always enough for me, but being with her in Positano is positively other worldly.
We went for a walk on the beach since this is our final evening. It's like the moon scattered sparkles on the water, and the gods lit up the red, blue, and yellow lights on the houses in the slope behind us, like visible music. Turning left, the Mediterranean spreads out before us like a glittering carpet that is constantly fluttering in the waves.
Turning right, my eyes are drawn upward to the sloping hillside, the curving perimeter roadway, and the stone houses, restaurants, and shops that cling to this incredible slice of earth like the treasure in a science fiction story.
It truly
