Memory Is, Of Course, A Trickster.

The Undulent Landscape Looks Serene In Every Direction. Honey-colored Farmhouses, Gently Placed In Hollows, Rise Like Thick Loaves Of Bread Set Out To Cool.

Although I Am A Person Who Expected To Be Rooted In One Spot Forever, As It Has Turned Out I Love Having The Memories Of Living In Many Places.

Splendid To Arrive Alone In A Foreign Country And Feel The Assault Of Difference. Here They Are All Along, Busy With Living; They Don't Talk Or Look Like Me. The Rhythm Of Their Day Is Entirely Different; I Am Foreign.

I’ll Always Marvel At The Liveliness Of Southern Speech-so Full Of Metaphor And Hyperbole, Quirks And Vividness.

It's Kind Of Amazing That People Will Travel Because Of A Book. I Admire That.