Gi and i are on a writing retreat at Beck's Boston Harbor beach side home while she's away exploring Bolivia. I love walking out of the house and smelling the salty Puget Sound just one block away, then walking over to the marina to see how low the tide has gotten and to hear the clinking of the sailboat masts.

There is a wooden dock with sea anemones and starfish stuck to the sides and no gate so you can go there and hang over the edge and try to touch the sea creatures, but they always look closer than they really are. In the evenings people hang out on their boats, looking at the most perfect landscape with the Olympics edged by the orange of the sun setting and purplish streaks of clouds. You can get a beer or soft serve ice cream at the little store on the marina and sit at one of their picnic tables all day if you want to.

The owners, Pam and Don, have been around as long as I can remember. When I was writing my thesis, I would ride my bike here at the end of every day. I love being out of breath at the end of the bike ride and inhaling deep breaths of this air. It feels like drinking. I can't think of a more perfect place to write.