This week I’m offering paid subscribers a bonus with an extra post-thank you! The beginnings of my next writing project, an account of my relationship with Block Island, RI, which was my home base for 30 years, and my year round home for ten. I have three other Block Island projects in my magic hat that I’m raring to get at now that Piko is with my editor and I’m excited to continue to archive my time on this incredible island with the intent to show you how one woman (me) re-wilded herself.
Unblocked
In 2007, I boarded a plane and landed in Lima, Peru. This may not sound like that big a deal in this globetrotting age, but I’d spent most of the ten years prior living on a tiny island-7 miles long and 5 miles wide at its widest point. Block Island was thirteen miles out to sea in the often stormy Atlantic. I, myself, was pretty stormy in those days, and the island was the perfect place for me to fall apart as the seasons changed and the tourists went home. The population was about 900. In summer that number swelled to ten thousand and up. One friend joked that 900 people lived on the island, but you only ever saw a hundred of them. Another, not joking, commented that, in his opinion, the island was aptly named. People who stayed there were blocked.
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