It had been a long weekend. Although I struggle with train travel in general-- I can't stay awake. Something about all that pastoral scenery sweeping quietly past-- after such a weekend, a little naplet was a must. Kathleen felt the same way.
We had met Liz up when we returned to London, but I was not in the mood for the rigors of another museum. I had seen the Louvre, which is to say I had seen the world-- what is left? The moon, with its empty craters and lack of oxygen? The museum's facade, a lovely Colosseum aspect, breathed its hidden secrets of challenge and antiquity, and my half-closed eyes crossed.
Then we entered this amazing lobby, and my knees buckled.
I did manage to get seen that which necessarily needed to be seen, that which no London tourist could rightfully call themselves London tourist without seeing. The Rosetta Stone was that thing.
The rest of the exhibits passed in a blur of worn marble. I was not clear headed; weary and travel worn, we left Liz to conquer London and returned to Oxford. One capital city per weekend, thank you. 
Jest aside, this was an amazing way to cap a once in a lifetime weekend. :)
