Vanessas Island – Chapter One

For five years I had lived on the island totally without human companionship. I saw no men but the old guy who ran the supply ship, and no women at all. And I was happy. An artist needs his solitude. In the hurley-burley that we choose to call society, the deeper voice of the soul cannot be heard.

Man alone with nature, that’s the way it should be. Like Thoreau at Walden Pond, Hemingway battling it out with the marlin in the Gulf of Mexico, Amundsen eating his own huskeys to stay alive at the South Pole…

Yuck, maybe not that last one. But you get the idea.

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