'You want to leave Los Angeles? What are you, crazy?
You got a place to stay with a roof. You don't need an overcoat here.
The whole world wants to come to L.A. and you want to leave?'
'The woman, call her Suzanne, had insisted during our one conversation over lunch at the edge of a glacier that I take a helicopter in, actually land and touch ice in the process of calving.
When I hesitated, she arranged the expensive transportation and sat next to me.
Suzanne claimed the range of blues in a calving field would be like a private tattoo,
an intricate weaving to wear permanently engraved on the fibers of my inner skin.
For this invisible ink, she remains with me.'