Views of pristine blue ocean from my balcony. Terra cotta tile floors with miniature lizards scattering, posturing, apparently keeping guard. A swimming pool lounge within spitting distance and the venue just fifty yards toward the ocean - a performer's dream: roll out of bed and onto stage.

I was spoiled the moment I stepped off the airplane. Precisely what I needed after a trying 30 hours in transit from Vancouver BC to here - Providenciales on the Turks and Caicos Islands, just north of Haiti, just southeast of him.

It is a black tie event and I am the guest entertainment. Everything has been arranged, from rides, to fire safety, to sound systems, to food. Although Turks and Caicos will not be hosting any farmer's markets while I am in town nor any other time of year, for that matter seeing that this limestone land offers only hydroponic lettuce, tomatoes, and the occasional green coconut (which are all devastatingly dry at present), I am contented to discover Dominican Republic avocados, mangos and bananas-a-plenty at the local store. Essentially all produce is imported to here, the prices of which, paid in US currency, leave the jaw agape. But everything has been arranged, as I mentioned earlier, and I won't be minding about money one bit for the next three days, but rather creating an astounding fire performance for the Annual Turks and Caicos Fireman's Ball, and the way I see it, thoroughly enjoying myself as much as humanly possible.

Which includes, for now, the professional house guest's rare treat, being alone. Suspiciously, peacefully, undeniably alone. I will use this monumental occurrence to attempt to concentrate ten hours of missed rest (due to traveling) into a four hour nap before scouting out the performance space with the event coordinator. Luxury has many faces. Let self-nurturing be her most lovely.


I will rest now, perchance to dream of his arms, his lips, and know the fullness of each perhaps, before again I open my eyes.

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