It was about the quiet poetry of solitary wanderings. In winter. This seaside town felt abandoned. It was cold. The sky was dreary. The only people I met were in warm cafes. Congregating. Reading newspapers. I took these walks frequently to clear my head, to work out story lines and character nuances - to feel grounded in time and place. I remain grateful to the wonderful women who ran the Ventspils Writer's House for this opportunity. I fell in love again with textures and lines, with the wind and open sea. At night it snowed like a prayer. I was happy.
FARO. I miss the enchanted poetry of your windswept shores, crippled trees, the wandering sheep, the hush of the tall pine forests, ancient rock forms loving human company, the songs of sea and open stretches of road offering a type of solitude most sublime and up lifting. A place that energized and at the same time gave deep inner peace and clarity - like the first time I stepped out into a Texas desert landscape. This island where Bergman lived and shot most of his films, an early influence on my own work. I will return.