May 7, 2015
This just arrived in the mail, a sign: I will go to Corfu this summer on a voyage home to myself, to make room for myself. I know not with whom or when or for how long, but the preparations have begun.
I want to go to Corfu and stay at the Durrells’ house (which one can) and breathe the bay of Kalami from the veranda and rent a boat and explore the secret beaches and lie naked in the sun and read Miller’s Colossus and Cavafy’s poems and Durrell’s guides to the islands and talk and sleep and sip my ouzo and swim in the warm, transparent and turquoise sea and make love and drink wine and cook and eat and drink wine again and talk more and make love again and talk again and drink more wine and fall asleep and wake up to the aegean sunrise and die just a little from the exaggerated bliss.
And long for Alexandria, every day, again and again and again.