I’ve turned melancholic. I sit in a chair facing the sea, unmoving like a sentry. I spend long minutes, maybe hours, watching the water and trying to find words to...
“Just don’t have a temper tantrum,” says my editor. “I doubt I can avoid it,” I reply. “I’m so petty.” I’m at the Jumping Dinard in Bretagne (Brittany), France. The...
