years ago, i went to see the redwoods in california at 5am, watched them in the dark until the lights went from black to red to gold. i was tired and fell asleep in the damp warmness of those woods thinking about how perfect a place it was to dream.
at big sur, i watched the water glide up against slippery black rock and wondered who lived in the small cabins in such a still sweet place.
no crowds, no pushing, no deals
last night was lovely; a small gathering of kind people in a cavernous multimillon dollar nyc apartment with giant windows facing emptied streets. we lay on the floor after the meal talking about love and the meaning of living - like shepherds in a pastoral novel