Happy Fourth of July, my American friends, colleagues, and members of the family.

First time I visited your country in 2014—endless stormy and mighty waves of the Atlantic coast of NJ, brief glimpse of Philly (we passed it by when going to Philadelphia Airport: want to come back), hot and radiant Nassau Bay, TX, where even the background sounds were weird and wonderful and like nothing I’ve heard before anywhere else and where an old gent spotted me wandering around the motorway (I was a bit lost) and asked if I needed help with my car (I guess I was the only person in Texas who didn’t drive), then that tiny Mexican restaurant with real TexMex food—gosh, was it delicious, and another minuscule Vietnamese cafe whose coffee was *the* most divine I’ve ever tried.

Then, it was Providence, RI, which is forever in my heart, with its Lovecraftian sights, the main NecronomiCon spots (College Hill, Brown University, John Hay Library) and sunset on Narragansett Bay, brisk jump through Boston, with its long vowels in the voice announcements at the airport and Steampunk Amtrak in the evening: we took a train to Providence from there.

But the main American treasure back then and now is its people. They are lovely—friendly, funny, smart, and amazing. And one of them for some reason became my husband, who is an angel and a precious gift. And I am also grateful for him.

I am wishing you well, America. Love you. Happy Independence Day!