I write to you from zee west coast, where we are sweaters and wool socks and grey ocean sky and bunkhouse sleeping and cups of coffee and pensive fog and eucalyptus and clusters of wild succulents.
It is supremely pleasant.
There will be updates a-plenty; there have been cat sightings in terms of real breathing cats and kitschy cats and dreams of cats and feelings galore. But I am short a computer cord until New Mexico so I must make it brief for the moment.
For now we are all packed around the same table, someone is cooking bacon in the next room, someone is talking about the origin of frogs, someone is talking about social justice, it is someone’s birthday, and a few streets away the ocean beats at the rocks and we are here together.