Every evening at six, after an afternoon of writing in our studios, Norman and I would meet in the bar next to the living room for a glass of wine. We’d look out at the sea and the boats in Provincetown Harbor, watch the gulls, and talk. After a lifetime of booze bourbon and gin and rum, scotch and vodka now Norman liked red wine mixed with orange juice, a mild sangria punch, while I sipped a dry Kir on ice soda pop wines, a taste of sweet, a drop of alcohol, to help us unwind. Those were hard, slow days, the last days of summer 2007. Norman was still writing, but fighting to breathe, and I had my problems, too. Eternity was on our minds a lot of the time when we talked. [download]
Format : Ebook.Pdf
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