A friend of mine is illustrating children’s books while house-sitting on a tiny island off the coast of my already-small island home, and we navigated the treacherous seas between the two shores to spend the night in his crazy-cool mansion. We arrived late in the afternoon, after a frankly arduous sail, to discover that we had neglected to bring swimming suits, towels, or changes of clothing. So into the water we went, with a bravado born of desperation. The island curved out of sight in both directions, and not a soul came into view during the two or three hours we spent sunning and swimming and congratulating ourselves on our good fortune.
That was a good fucking day.