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About the end of the long summer of 1974. (N.Y.C. 10/25/74) I should have kept a journal of that magnificent time. Now in recollection, I can jot down only a random gleaming of that time. The fine details, & the minute events, and the specific tone and look of places escape me now. 

But it was a time of confrontation and of discovery. Burnt Head - the summit of it, and the base of it, where that tide pool is, proved to be the enduring vantage point and place for selfhood. The long horizon and the great rocks on which I sat or lay became my reach and my matrix. I saw, I learned, I was challenged to draw, to think & to write.

There were other places - Lobster Cove, Norton's Ledge overlook, Crow's Nest, Squeaker Cove, Gull Cove, Seal Ledges at low tide - but Burnt Head was my magnet on these days when I started down the road with no plan.

I saw the intimately close border of the island. The place where the island was fringe and margin, and I saw the shapes and look of tide pools. This became my driving theme.

One night the sky was so black and the stars so sharp I had to do a starry night. And toward the last week I isolated a marginal ledge and painted small islands in [[strikethrough]] me and [[strikethrough]] the large seaspace. 

How cold the air was for a month!