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Dear ones,

This post card naturally does not show the rain and cold here or the clouds eternally squalling across these hills. No wonder I am thinking of you and hoping you are having a clear day. The world is so big. The distances are growing, despite what people say. The faces of the sheep by the roadsides on this stony northern island imitate every human expression except love. No wonder I am thinking of you and missing you, your faces, voices, telling me about what the sheep don't seem to know. There is so much to say. Back on the mainland, where I write, the high walls of rhododendron make the roads secret connecting tunnels through the air.

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