I woke up this morning and declared that I have diabetes, given all the weird symptoms I’m suffering since coming home from Positano. Sam took that moment to laugh in my face and remind me of the severe jet lag I’m experiencing. He could be right, I suppose: I have been drinking rivers of water to make up for the mere 3 ounces I consumed over the past 10 days. And I thought red wine, Prosecco and limoncello would hydrate me and make my skin glow. Instead, I have puffy eyes, dry mouth and have to pee 17 times each night. It’s sexy, I tell you.

My goal had been to post photos every day while I was gone, but I took so many of them that trying to process and then find the time to post was just too much. So I’ve worked on organizing my favorites and have put some on Facebook. I will upload all of those (and more) to Flickr when I have time later this week. In the meantime, I can’t help but offer a few more glimpses into this sigh-inducing place.

I went sauntering as often as I could and it was the many nooks and crannies I loved the most. The ceramics and cobblestones and shockingly green moss made this very old place so vibrant, it hummed.

There was beauty in the smallest details.

And in the kind, generous people.

As Ron Carlson might say, “How many views are there of Positano? About a jillion.” And each one is more heartstopping than the last. Some feel like a proclamation.

Others feel like a secret whispered by a lover into the curve of an ear.

Is it any wonder I found myself weeping—at times, sobbing—several times every day?

I’m supposed to be a writer, a person who can use language to describe a place. But I find myself lingering over clichés, falling into a wind-blown, head-thrown-back, one-shoulder-bared Harlequin trap. And this is to say nothing about John Steinbeck, who already wrote about it so brilliantly as to render my meager attempts an embarrassment. The delete key has been my good friend these last days and for now, my pictures will have to tell you how I feel about Positano.

But I will say this: Magic doesn’t describe this place. I think accurate description requires the invention of a new word.  Any suggestions?