I�m tired. That�s the first thought that comes to mind when I think of writing how I feel in the present moment. This year in France has brought me so much. I�ve seen and done the things of dreams. I�ve become this amazing woman that has so many bright stars on her horizon.

But its taken work. And right now I feel like spiritually, physically, mentally, I need to lie down and sleep for a good five years. Today I have five days left before I step onto a large white machine that wishes to be a bird and fly back to my home. I can hardly find this possible, and yet some part of me, if you push past the weary haze that seems to be clouding my eyes, can barely believe that it�s over. The long fight, struggle, dance, whatever you want to call it. Its done. I can hardly find it possible to believe. In fact I just got out of the shower about fifteen minutes ago. I must have been in there for half an hour. Sometimes when I�m feeling tired or weary, very, very weary, I just sit down in the bottom of the shower and let the warm water rain down over me and cleanse me of everything. That�s what I feel like right now. Sweet sleep is what I dream of. I need to rest.

I have this vision of myself walking along, in clothes too old and dirty to be worn, down a broken street. It is black and white, rain is drizzling down. I am walking wearily, but resignedly forward to a bright picture, maybe just a light, that I know is somewhere in front of me. This vision won�t leave me. This slow and weary march of an exchange, punctuated by moments of joy from time to time, is finally coming to its close.

The only emotion that I seem to be able of feeling at this point and time is relief. It�s like the relief that you feel to see the sun rising after a long night of being sick and scared.

That�s why this zine is entitled The Not-So-Distant Shore. Finally, finally I am swimming into shore. I�ve seen many storms and many sunrises so beautiful I thought I would go blind. And now, what is left? Thankfulness and exhaustion.

I know what it will feel like to sink my feet into that wonderful sand when the Shore is finally beneath my feet. I know how it will feel to look up and see my friends and family ready to welcome me with their arms, love, and towels to dry the final traces of my swim away from my body.

I have loved this voyage. I have hated it. I have felt every emotion possible during these last ten months. All I can say is thank you. All I can say is that I am tired.

So the last few strokes continue as I slowly and pensively make my way into Shore. I see my land of relief rising majestically up into a star jewelled sky. For a moment I pause to lift my eyes up and behold it all. Beneath me my body is so old and yet new. It is ready to start this life again. It has worked so hard. I am so tired. Weary, yes, but not broken.

I am ok with this slow and quiet ending. I, in fact, am so happy that it is coming to its close this way.

Goodbye to the ocean. Do not worry, I did love you. You taught me so much, and I am forever in your debt.

Hello to the new and old world that I will so soon stand up on. My weary legs will not shake. I will slowly rise, the old waters slowly dripping from me, to look at you, at you all, and I will smile.

And, for once, it won�t be just me. The whole world will be gold. Just you wait and see.