Vocare is to invoke and to beckon. I am beckoning here: I write for my life, finding words have been taken to strife, when the real root was a butter knife to wipe fresh clotted cream upon a bun from the bakery down the lane when the dairymaid came to stay. The story here is of a man who I found on a desert sand along a cove, looking tan. He had come to man, looking all grand and he did land….. ….somewhere else in a far off cove. He missed the X spot I had drawn in the sand as an S.O.S plan. Oops…. I traveled across his hand, a mountain terrain band of crevices and ravines, caves and pits it seems to find out why….. …..he missed the spot. Was a word taken wrong? I travelled with a dog, a cat, two parakeets and a cantankerous daughter keeping me on land.