England is glorious. The oatmeal at the bakery in Seward is steel-cut. It stays with you all the way up the mountain. Evan, the baker from New Zealand, only likes women under thirty. The other baker is passive-aggressive.
People look as big and hearty as the whole grain loaves on the cooling racks.
On a beach at Resurrection Bay, we see salmon dying and blackbirds circling. We lie on the warm sand, eating jellybeans and granola. Your mom is worried you and Helen are lesbians, because you are always touching each other. She entertains us with a stag moss moustache. We pick wild blueberries in the woods while the bears watch from behind trees.