“When I awoke, it was late afternoon, the crickets were singing outside, the sun shined golden, and the hushed murmurs of voices could be heard downstairs. I dressed feeling strangely at Home, and descended to meet our hostess. Home with a capital H is not a place or a thing, but rather an aesthetic. We each have our own version of Home that lives close to the soul. Many little details, nuances, and wisps of dreams go into defining it. You can make a Home for yourself by creating a place that has enough bits of art and magic to approximate your ideal, or sometimes, on those rare occasions, you step into a place that parallels enough of your own sense of beauty and divine livingness that it’s felt down deep.”
―
William Widmaier,
A Feast at the Beach
