This link
At dusk gives you a brief tour of the, ah, accommodations, up on Mon Bouton.
So far away now...and yet, so immediate! I can hear the crickets, cicadas..and the toad. By 7 p.m. most everyone and everything has quieted down before these creatures bleat in.
I escape guiltily into paperbacks schlepped from home - books that take me to medieval Jerusalem, to Depression-era USA, to pre-Civil Rights Deep South. I read short stories, depicting lives of elderly women of privilege back in my home town, university town, at Stanford.
I think I am probably the only one within a radius of at least 30 miles who is reading, who is burning candles to read.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5tx9w2NPw0N3yJRdac-EBg48D7lfeuAHR6T7FbEUAR3o5N2hHZj19Sp85GCMBwidMcl2OJFEu18gP5oR8E0JU_p20xbgNHCtsHmkRnNRLswP07RPFXe9HGznkKEUBCD3wFrtn2nmzfXs/s320/Guitar+View.jpg) |
Surely, everyone else is singing, humming or going to sleep. |
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ZnilIP2bHLhyphenhyphen7K1VYVg35mFY1GCILn5xMN-u7p52jVubV8QZowdLgNSskUumfgIq_C79HWRh_0b5GEbmJF3EE2NT7jW5s5YmcHy9MAXrpYG3g9IfhiSe2ma1HRPi-p22_4aUkB4h76E/s320/FredrickDouglasView014.jpg) |
When I awake, this will be there for me. |