Taking a picture of the wind. Later same day: The wind as lover, a lover who would never leave me. A tempo I could never predict. I want to be naked in the wind in the backyard. Each day a different experience. Not to be after the sun but rather the wind. What messages could I send home on the wind? Blow them out in a megaphone. A, you helped me cross the ocean. B, you will be published more than you ever dreamed; C, you will have your boat in spite of yourself; D, you will find, at last, someone worthy of you; E, have I got a song for you -- Lester Young with woman singing "Beautiful Eyes." "He had such beautiful eyes, but he pawned all my rings. They're all deceiving." Bee-sting jazz. Sunday, June 5 Walked to special market in Chateaulin. 12-1. Takes one hour, mostly along the river. Fairly sunny. The wind is tame today but every now and then pushes my skirt between my legs, tips my hat off my head as though I were saying hello to imaginary people. Coming back, the river's current looks crossed as though a chain link fence had been printed on the water and the print was moving. -->Next