The Writers’ Retreat at L’ancienne Auberge was a transformative and valuable experience. I relished the solitude, which allowed for long uninterrupted stretches of writing, reading, and thinking, often to the point where I lost track of the days. Such deep freedom is a rare and precious gift. I loved getting to know Puycelci: its bookstore, walking trails, and wonderful people. I also enjoyed exploring the surrounding countryside: the farmers market in Saint-Antonin-Noble-Val, Cafe au Bord du Monde in Salvagnac, Sainte-Cecile Cathedral in Albi, and much more besides. I am grateful for the chance to have gotten to know this marvelous corner of the world, and I hope I’ll get back sometime. Surely, there’s much more to see and do than I was able to cover in a month, but of course I spent a lot of time holed up in the gîte, at the big table with my books and papers spread out all around me, occasionally looking up at the vista beyond the balcony to check in on the progress of the day: thick blankets of fog in the morning yielding to gloriously sunny afternoons, the occasional raging thunderstorm at night. One day I saw a herd of sheep grazing the meadow on the mountainside across the way. Every time I looked up there they were, a little farther along than they’d been an hour before. It occurred to me, hearteningly, that in this way we were more or less the same.