E and I are going on a short retreat this weekend. There will be trees. There will be a pond. There will be quiet, I am sure of it, some quiet. Cicadas at night, too. Or will they be crickets? I doubt I’ll know the difference.

Usually I never want quiet; I live in New York City; obviously I care little about quiet. I am proudly numb to noise. Or I used to be. But something is breaking up inside me, this vision of what I wanted my life to be, of who I should be and want to be and am.

So I have some time outside of this life to get my head straight. Two people are being very generous to let us stay in their house while they’re away. Did I mention the trees? The pond?

Anyway, we hope to use the time to write. E will be working on his script; I’ll be working on…

I have no idea.

I figure the mood will strike me once I get there.