I am back home and Cairo woke me up pre-dawn. It’s going to be hot and humid today, I can already feel it. I was wondering if I should try to sleep or get up, make coffee and have toast with olive oil, cinnamon, and cayenne pepper or go back to sleep. Instead, I decide to just write a message. Some of you are sleeping. I can sense that my daughter Jesse, in Paris, is awake thinking. My son, in Michigan, is sleeping, perhaps restlessly. E.G. Walker, author of Stinky Puppets, is up feeding the chickens. Cairo, having been fed, is sitting quietly at my feet. Wildfires are burning everywhere at this moment, in Greece, Algeria, and Canada. Greta Thunberg and Reclaim the Future are dragged to court for protesting an oil facility. Their actions are not a crime but a wave of hope. Francis is calling for governments to do more to protect our common home. Governments, not listening, are peacefully sleeping with big corporations. I wonder if I should get up and make toast and read. I fell asleep reading Scene of the Crime by Patrick Modiano. It’s still on the bed with my glasses. It’s getting light out. I think I will try to go back to sleep. If I can’t it’s really alright. There’s something about being home. In my room with my own books. My not-so-perfect world that is at least temporarily mine. – Patti Smith
