Donna and I went to Block Island this past weekend. The excursion was needed; my blood has been boiling lately at the American publishing industry. It was an hour drive to New London and then a ferry-ride of about an hour. During the last ice age, a retreating glacier shaped the island and then, as sea levels rose when the ice melted, it became divorced from the mainland.
We took the Jessica W, a 160-foot vessel, across moderately choppy waters. The day was grey and rainy (my type of weather!) and Donna and I enjoyed drinks aboard before docking and renting a moped for exploration of the countryside.
There are tightly-clustered tourist-trap shops but then there’s the rest of the island; quiet, rural, and apart. We drove around with the wind in our hair, intermittent rain tapping out playful rhythms on our heads, and got to the beach where we had wine and ancient Egyptian poetry.
Watching this Week: The Machinist, Roadhouse, and In Bruges.
Reading this Week: A Brief History of Warfare by John Keegan
“You cannot step twice into the same rivers; for fresh waters are ever flowing in upon you…”