1995
Midsummer is past. The days are getting shorter again. Sometimes, it feels like I've never lived anywhere but this tiny shed, in this tiny village, on the edge of the ocean. My busy days in San Francisco — so full of to-dos and appointments — used to seep past without me, but here, my life is stripped down to six basic activities: sleeping and eating, writing and reading, running and relaxing. Time is mine again.
Life likes to take it easy, it seems, and the only way to be properly alive is to slow your pace to match.
So I find myself less bored than when I was busy, and less lonely than I've been for years, though I've never spent so much time alone. Solitude soothes me, along with the fresh air, the sound of the sea, and the past that I'm excavating with my pen. All are helping
