10:14 AM, Saturday morning.
I have a window. It frames the gnarled mound of a sand dune, fringed with misty gray sea grass. The tips of a weathered wooden-slat fence lie canted just beyond. Deeper into the frame tawny sands stretch down to the froth of the surf. Waves rise up and curl, stretching smooth jade backs before kissing the shore. The sound is a liquid whisper.
Julia called the other night to tell me that she won’t be able to visit. I miss her and wish we could have seen each other here. It is a beautiful, quiet, place.
And in my bedroom I have a window that frames the sea. The view is bright and calm. Warm. A lemon chiffon butterfly just tumbled by.
The sky is pure, limitless blue...
--- JWR, 8/22/98
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