And since I live at the edge of the west coast, that means getting on a plane and going far, to New York in my case. It is weird that one of the world's largest cities gives me the peace I need to write. Perhaps I need to focus to create my own little pool of quiet in the middle of chaos, and so I am not that easily distracted by the flutter of a bird, the sound of the wind?
Or is it simply that in New York I am so far away from the responsibilities of everyday life, in time and space, that I manage to focus on my own work?
Whatever, I am off tomorrow morning really early. Time to pack, I guess.