November 23rd, 1972

Thanksgiving Day. Up and at ‘em at 5:30 today. Adventure. Deliverance. Margie and I getting stoned in bed this morning. Gayle arrived in speedy wonder at 7-ish. Beautiful stoned ride through fall Virginia. Bare majestic trees silhouetted against a rising frost-bitten day. Gayle is lovely. Breakfast at airport– coffee and toast and a hit of speed watching Gayle eat ham and eggs. Our waitress’ name was Ruby.

I feel as if I am going away to some far off land.

“Why anybody would ever care to leave England I can’t quite imagine.”

The world is full of the richest mysteries. Airport bustling with an incredible stream of faces, clothes, hands– each person moving through his own drama. 

The plane is about to rise into the air.