Her wanderlust got the best of her again, and again—she was off.
This time in search of her grand existential payoff in the lands of the south—the north had only yielded infrared oceans, tidal pools, and sea urchins for lovers. She knew there must be more to the south.
Off! Florida bound she went. And the first night she thought she finally found her raison d’etre.
There! Midway there, in North Carolina, her Golden Fleece.
A treasure wrapped for her own protection.
Life finally had substance!
“The highest purpose is to have no purpose at all. This puts one in accordance with nature, in her manner of operation.”
— John Cage