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Pictures from the Turks

July 23, 2011

This is my 4th year in the Turks and I have come to love it. At first, it was not for me. Too hot. Too strangely sybaritic. Where were the rocks? The freezing cold water? The hike to the beach? Here, I get up and the first thing I see is a palm tree swaying. The sea is light blue. The beach is fifteen steps away and there are no rocks. Not even any seaweed. There are two pools to splash around in. It is so easy, all of it. At night, we sit on the porch and drink and watch the sunset. Then we go out to eat, except for last night when I made us ratatouille. At any rate, it has become very familiar here. A sort of summer home. And now I love it for its beauty. And for how it helps me write. There is nothing here that I feel guilty about Not seeing. No Louvre. No Victoria and Albert. No MFA. My only job is to write and stare at the sea and swim occasionally and make sure my son does good things. He has consented to let me post some of his pictures.

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