Four days in Nottingham turned into two weeks. Lines crossing the canal, the Channel, the hexagon. Lucky: Sainsbury's (I love English grocery stores), seeing the swans, beautiful morning weather. Time to write, think, cook, relax, talk to new people, bake sweets, go to the pub, walk around, dance.
Time to think about what I want to do, how I can go about doing it. Thinking about staying, thinking about leaving. It's been nearly six months since I
arrived. Some days in the beginning I felt like France was suffocating me. Yesterday I said to my friend that France feels like
home. I was happy to be in England, but I was ready to go
home to Dole. Never thought I would feel that way.
Your kind words about my
book have been taken to heart. I thank you for them. Writing, for me, is something I do without thinking of the rest of the world. It is its own thing. And I never expected that I would publish a book; I sort of believed it was something that happened to other people. But, thanks to a professor who believed in my work and in me, here it is. I am finally beginning to feel comfortable saying "I'm a poet," when people ask me what I do.
Good to be back. See you soon.
