The peace and solitude of silence, the ability to create and breathe life into previously sedentary objects, this is what I need. I am about to hit the bottom with such a deafening thud. I have done it to myself, this time, well no likely every time before. But this time is going to be different because it’s going to mean something else. I have been alone long enough to know what I want. I have been unique long enough that I haven’t been absorbed into anyone’s requested way of being pretty much ever…which is why I’m unmarried as that always seems to be the prerequisite I refuse to adhere to. It would be nice to find that idea, not ideal, which fit somehow into my world. I need space, imagination, closeness, movement, beauty, and touch, all combined to turn into love expressed. At this point what I want and what I need are the same things, but with very different ends. Satisfying one angle does not mean ignorance of the other–but I suppose what I want is the passion to fuel the will to advance beyond what I need, to overfill the well, if you will.

I am leaving again next week from Monday through Friday. The crickets are the only quiet, I eat every day, the ducks are my flash of whiteness, and we just enjoy each other’s company and sit alone sometimes, able to take it all in. To sit here and hear the rivets of the tire shop pop off from the air gun is such a disconcerting interruption along with my air conditioner and the hum of the cars…the only brilliant thing I love is the trees, rosebushes and people’s gardens. And the fact that there was a Bolivian day parade here which had some amazing costuming, done in the very early afternoon…small bits of tolerance in a largely hectic unyielding unfeeling animal farm.

I am getting out of here, but not too far, some way, some how.