It’s been beautiful in Olympia. Splitting wood behind Rohan’s house, I could almost pretend that the drama had blown over with the clouds. It was not so. But I am more comfortable admitting my struggle is personal, individual, inexplicable. And the sunburn left over from yesterday’s sail with my lovely cousin beside me in the cockpit could not be diminished.
The weird nieghbor who communicates mostly through a system of grunts and constantly wears a leather cowboy hat and jacket passed by the boat today with the familiar tops and shorts on the bottom. Jacket and hat untouched. I’m really really curious about what his boat looks like.
I also probably would not have worried about a earthquake in Italy 6 months ago. Now I do. I’m checking the maps and feeling silly for it. What does it matter whether I know the people being hurt around the world? What difference could it make? Am I really obligated to tell the Greek women on the phone intending to play Rachel in a play that I actually have absolutely no relation to the Corries? Am I?