I wrote a book sitting on a stool in a Dunkin Donuts. I later learned that when I turned and looked out the glass windows, I was looking at the graveyard of my ancestors in MA, where I never knew I had any ancestors. Born in NY and raised in IL.
I had one experience while there that was very odd. I was with a large group and we were touring one of the Hapsburg homes, a summer cottage. At one point while walking around, I had a strong urge to just get out of the house. It wasn’t a fear thing...I just wanted to go outside because I was intensely bored. I broke away from the group and went out into the garden alone and just sat there, feeling the air and just having really strong sensations that I couldn’t explain, fighting off the urge to cry. At the time I took it as an episode of intense homesickness; that summer was the first time I had been away from home for a long period of time. Now I wonder about it.