As felicity consumes me – though not without an occasional return to that balcony of night where I’d converse with gay laughter and dream of small adventures – I establish a new idea. Man is always producing (or discovering) new ideas. In my particular case, I will find myself ever so often suffering my own 1909. Freed and no longer encumbered by the edifices, I set to produce a new me, but always with the memory of the old. “I will produce a new city by the bay.” But it will be partially old, partially new for the old is difficult to abandon. Habit is strong.
I have this succinct feeling that my trip to the islands will prove regenerative. To wake to morning walks along the beach and delight in sunsets prior to rendering myself patient to Sleep, and in between a life filled with light activitites that will recall a consumptive nature – for though we are all consumptives – some of us are more so than others.
And I can imagine the band playing by the shore, soft tunes percolating. I shall close my eyes, raise my head high and breathe. I shall feel this moment intensely.