It’s always in April that I get antsy. For the last six years, April signals the end of eight months of continuous work (entirely my own fault), and I’m itching to withdraw from life here, only to reappear in some far-flung place. And I usually do for a week or two, but there’s always the obligation to come back because of school and/or work.
But not this year. After six years of all work and no play, I have no commitments to return to in September. I can lounge on the beach in Livorno, drink wine in the French countryside, or live out of my car on Galliano Island while learning to surf from friendly locals. (I assume there are friendly locals who will teach me to surf.) Or maybe I’ll yeet myself into the redwood forest to live among the trees and forest nymphs. Who knows! Anything can happen when you have hutzpah and a strong desire to vanish.
Images: Simer Haer/The Cascade
