07.22.05 - 1:38 p.m.

I returned from a trip last night. I'd swum over to Saturna Island to hang with the Biggs family for awhile, because Zannie's parents and brother decided to perch in a cabin on a bluff for a week and I got invited too. So I threw a sweater in a suitcase and then spent days wrapped in my blowin-around hair reading books beside "The Old Foghorn Building." It's like a tiny seaside box, all alone in the landscape, with white paint peeling and one broken window too far up the side to see in. At sunrise its window-side glows pink, and at sunset it's the last thing to catch and hold the light, like a sheet hung up high on the hill......because the ruffles of flaking paint and the weathered shingles are smoothed by the back of the sun into one square of luminous brilliance. I'm smitten.

Now I'm back in Victoria (aka The Velvet Prison aka The Waiting Room, depending on who you ask) trying to sustain that sublime countryside rapture in my head. There were garter snakes that slithered down to the sea in the morning to catch fish.

see< >saw

i whisper hello to everything