I don’t like cities much and yet, for my sins, I’ve spent a lot of my lifetime in them. A year in San Francisco, ten years in Manhattan off and on, a year in Boston, seven years in London—and now, after 15 sweet summers in a suburban Southern California paradise, I’ve moved to Los Angeles. Again, for my sins.
My sins, if you’re wondering, are ambition and a will that grows weak under the tyranny of convenience. There are things I want to accomplish, and cities make them easier. Still, urban life has never suited me. My eyes find their natural rest on rolling hills and open fields. I’m nowhere more at peace than in a forest. I want to notice the moon at night, what phase it’s in, how light it makes the darkness. I want the weather to matter.
Read the rest here.