I could be at Dove Cottage,
a clay cabin on Innisfree or
in the Provence of Pagnol,
life in my van is the same.

Camus declared that there is
no creativity without secrecy,
his grave at Lourmarin in the
Vaucluse is testimony to that.

Hemingway said that Paris
was a moveable feast, and
he would know, because the
demons dined with him also.

Similar to Virginia Wolfe and
Sylvia Plath, but we can’t all
dunk our heads like ostriches
in sand, when life gets tough.