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THE FIRST SUMMER WAS PURE HAPPINESS.

We were making Persona on the island.

It was hot. I was experiencing another human being. He was experiencing me. And we didn’t need to talk about it. I was barefoot in sand so fine it felt as if it breathed beneath my feet.

During the day I would lie o…

We were so much alike. What he had not known about himself he began to see in me—as if in a mirror—despite the fact that I was a woman and much younger and perhaps unlike him in ways that he didn’t know. He saw his own vulnerability and his own anger in me. And when this was reflected back at him, …

SO MUCH HAS BEEN WRITTEN ABOUT OUR LIFE AT FARO. People who have never been there and never known us have written chapters.

But I remain dumb when someone asks me to talk about it.

I was young and had so many ideas about what life should be.

Pictures—which are fragments of our life togethe…

“WHAT IS YOUR STRONGEST HAPPINESS?” I SAY TO A MAN for whom I care. We are in the new summer cottage. Rain is pouring down from a sky that is drearily gray. I had imagined us walking about naked and brown and beautiful and discovering new things from each other in the sun.

“My happiness?” he rep…

It is summer of the year I have spent at home in Oslo.

I am sitting on a bench outside my house eating homemade waflles with jam, forgetting that I want to lose weight. The heat is buzzing in my head.

In Los Angeles no one would understand what it is like to have a feast of waffles in the sun…