Richard's just posted me from Cagayan de Oro - I advise him to buy a linen suit, and to make use of an Imperial typewriter - there's a profound novella to be written - Richard's flown from Turkey, by way of Thailand, to the Philippines - he's gazed up at the vast dome of Hagia Sophia, drunk coffee in Izmir -
In Cappadocia, Richard strolled through the dark galleries of Derinkuyu, far underground - he shook apricots from the trees of an orchard in Anatolia, east of Konya - the vast archaic heads of Nemrud Dagh filled his dreams -
In Bangkok, the glass towers were lapped by crazy traffic - smiling taxi drivers demanded fistfuls of baht -
Now Richard is in Mindanao - he describes, in short, beautiful, sentences, life in that humid, unsettling, island -
Reading those posts, I feel my heart stirred by the longing I always have to travel - I see myself, in a white jet, flying high above the clouds -
I think - in the upper atmosphere, I will be safe from the Kindly Ones - Francis once told me - they pursue us all -
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