I think I’m too much in a hurry. I have the summer and then I have teaching again and I know I will not find the time then to write. My head will be swimming with to-do lists and appointments and meetings and all the hoopla that accompanies full days on campus.
I admit, it’s been a challenging day. By the end of it, after at least a few pleasant minutes at the Fitchburg farmers market -- wonderful La Baguette bread, peas and pea pods at another stand, elsewhere -- cheese, as explained by a father to his son...
...and after some more pleasant minutes at the Oasis Café, Ed and I pedal home. There, he mumbles something about feeding the cat and disappeares into his shed for a good many hours. I felt badly for him – he did not bargain for the tougher times of traveling occasionally with a companion. It just sort of happened.
Book? You, also, are making a book? What a project, eh? What is it? Travel? Food? Fiction? I'd love to know.
ReplyDeleteI told someone (not YOU, Someone!) that the book I was writing was perfectly suited for a French film about coming of age. They're so good at those: nothing much happens and everything happens!
ReplyDeleteIt is my own account (nonfiction, insofar as I can remember things with my own sense of pentimento truth) of coming of age, mostly in post war communist Poland. I'm more than half done.
I will await the end product. Best of luck.
ReplyDeleteI have been someone too long to change it. It seems silly now that everyone uses names. I'm not sure what we once feared, or what anonymity secured?