Gentle Reader, My days have become a linear but curved passage taking me from the Bali Hai Club along the water, taking me past restaurants, shops and creeks terminating at a grocery store. The other direction takes me past residences, the police station (gendrmerie), the best pizza on the island and eventually the Kaveka Hotel and reasturant (the off duty warering hole of the gendarmerie). Ahead of me holes contain the quick dark movements of land crabs scurrying towards invisibility during both day and night. In the creeks leading from the mountains to the bay eels laze with a superiority; knowing they are sacred here and not eaten by humans. Once night falls a well informed traveller walks with a large rock to fend off apack of wild dogs. My trek takes me past a hut containing a man named Agee who cuts the grass here. He is a very large Polynesian with a warm heart and generous manner. His hut contains no running water or electricity. It is immaculate on the inside and outside. He has two bedrooms one on the second story and one on the ground floor. There is a bar inside, immaculate gardens where he grows fruits and vegtables. He has a private patio with outside gravity sun heated shower system, a table and a wood burning BBQ. Privacy fencing surronds his property. He has built this all on his own and I believe he started as a squatter. I asked him how he came to learn these skills and he answered that he prayed to God with out stretched hands and was soon after building like Noah, without his furry friends. I had been previously introduced on a trek with Taylor a fellow traveller on a small sailboat on the bay with his girlfriend Anna. We met for the first time at Tamas, a tattoo studio and one of two on the island that are very good. They gave me a large Hinano beer, (a local favorite) and Anna helped interpret my design ideas to the artist in French. As stated earlier my linear existence allows us to see each other reguarly as they transit in from the bay. I am a flat lander. My life is a series of decisions involving eating, beverages and a well timed nap. American food is almost impossible so one must make due with pâtés, fromage, and baguettes. A good California wine cannot be found. It's a daily struggle to survive in this environment. Last night I ate a Chinese restaurant called Jean Pierre. I ordered the pork with oyster sauce. The meat was entirely pork belly, fatty and delicious paired with a nice merlot. Most everyone is friendly and there is a bocci ball court just before the grocery. On Friday, Saturday and Sunday it is a party; music, beer, food and the every clanking of steel balls. This is a game of skill and as it is for money is taken very seriously. I talked with Billy today, as I am still acting as his personal secretary to the outside world; trying to conquer one his self made complications at a time. It's like pissing into a squall; there is just no way you are not going to get wet. I expect him to be here around dinner time, as I let it slip, that I had plans tonight. He may want to sail to Tahiti tommorrow. One day at a time. Returning with him will make my life, less convienent, less pleasant and more expensive; but then that's my problem.