friday harbor leaving

Strange to think from here that I was there. It was a kind of scouring being there. The days shone and then went dry, were light then dark, as was the writing, which flourished and disappeared like the moon, like the weather, like the day, like the night. And then it hailed, and then I was leaving.

I spent a few days with a woman I met on a train from Geneva to Barcelona when I was 22. She was a student of architecture from South Africa and had travelled to Europe to study the buildings. I was looking for romance, or for whatever happened to turn up. She said, when you find yourself alone in a strange room in an unfamiliar place, buy flowers, drink tea, light a candle, walk. She said, I’m going to Berlin, you can come if you want. I followed the label on the tangerine and went to Ibiza. I think her name was Francine.







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6 Responses to friday harbor leaving

  1. Marianne says:

    I truly, truly love this piece, the impressionism of the opening, especially.

  2. Jill Widner says:

    Thanks, Marianne.

  3. I have enjoyed reading about your travels, Jill, and look forward to more when you have time, whether about home or away. Lane

  4. Hey Jill, congrats I just saw your name a on a Salt shortlist. is that for a collection? Be great to read one form you, good luck. Lane

  5. Jill Widner says:

    Lane, thank you! I must be dreaming!

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