maybe i'm just not ready to grasp "tranquility" but this book moved too goddamn slow for me. also, it felt like, rather than writing a book about a personal experience, the author SEEMED to go on a personal experience for the purposes of writing a book. i guess you've got to create your writing inspiration when you're living the slow life in a small french hamlet? he never goes into his "why" for the journey, nor the distance or time (at least, i didn't pick up on it - i think it was a few days?) but he could have just went up the hill to the store to pick up some milk. i dont even know. (fact: donkeys produce milk. he should have picked a female for his milk needs if he was in a pinch.) he made donkeys seem really cute and i would consider getting a pet donkey now, if only because they remind me of me, cute little stubborn asses. aside from that, all i got from this book was that i could really use a nice little picnic in the french countryside with some fresh pane, fromage, and my new pet ass.