Friday, June 3, 1994, Port Launay, France
Meditations on the wind, so far the most irritating thing here. I'm in the second floor study watching a platane tree rape/make love to itself. The upper right branches bend over rhythmically, sometimes jerkily, embracing the rest of the tree. Like a man taking a woman from behind in a standing position.Later, same day: the wind ripples the River Aulne, la fleuve. It seems to flow from east to west. Looks wrong. Maybe it's like the St. Johns. Two men and a woman in high rubber boots and yellow slickers pass, climb into their sailboat at 9 P.M. Still daylight. I'm shivering on the bank. Later I learn the river flows from west to east only the surface is whipped in the opposite direction by the wind, like cattle being herded. The river is cold; in it there are salmon.
Wind carry me away in dreams. I want to make love to you as if in a tornado. Bring me back to another place.