i am delighted with where i live, with the life i've been able to make; i wouldn't have met the people i have had i lived anywhere else.
and yet there's a lot of days i miss having the ocean nearby. something about the smell and the salt air and the immensity: i can go on vacation, walk down some godforsaken overcast beach and just stare into the distance.
the modern world requires i work and pay taxes and consume, but if money were no object, i'd happily live in some rundown house at the edge of the water, stockpiling extra food in the fall for the inevitable winter storms. writing and writing. i have a picture i took five years ago of a tiny red shack on a little island at the edge of the atlantic: probably too small, but the feel was overwhelming. we want the world, and each in our own way.