'' 'As the war was ending, in 1945, Patricia and I went back to California. We moved out to Big Sur, to live together with a bunch of poets and writers in some huts on the side of a cliff.'
To live in a hut on the side of a cliff. Well i thought as I washed and stacked the dishes that evening, that would solve a lot of problems for a lot of people in the short term; it wasnt an option people of my generation thought we had. I thought of Sophia, who had called in a low moment, and i wished, irresponsibly, that she could escape in a similar way. But then i thought of her frequent refrain: 'I am thirty-three; I want to have a child; if I leave this marriage, I will have to start all over, and I might not make a new relationship in time to have a family of my own; and truthfully, there is the security...'Then i thought: perhaps boxes come in many shapes and guises, some of them very alluring; and maybe escape from the box is a step you take first in the imagination. ''An excerpt taken from
The Treehouse: Eccentric Wisdom from my Father on how to Live, Love and See