I escaped feverishly from Montpellier and my hotel room.
Drove straight through with just one stop for gas around Nimes and a bathroom break before the exit to La Garde Freinet.

Wind and gray skies all the way.

Yellow blossoms along the road, mixed with dry grasses waved as I rushed past, lost in thoughts of nothing and everything; minding the road and the crazies; watching for sudden gales that could push me into another lane; listening to 90 year old Aznavour talk about his friends and play his favorite songs… Lots of poetry in nostalgie.

This morning I look around the garden and the sky.
Happy little clouds frame the villas on top of the hill…

I hear the concert of turtledoves
As I open the shutters.
And I smile at the sun poking
through the hedge of boxwood
to light a thousand spots on wet roses.
The air…