From my high vantage, I have a bird’s-eye view of the town of Bar Harbor, Maine and of the ugly cruise ship parked half a mile out and waiting for its humans, who are now scattered up and down Main Street buying oven mitts and bacon jam.
Continue reading “Homesick in Bar Harbor”
As I write this at an iron table in the South of France, a donkey is bawling his eyes out behind a stone wall. Meanwhile to my right and left, streams of churning water tumble and rush south on their way to the Mediterranean.
Continue reading “The Waters of Fontaine-de-Vaucluse”
because i said 