We walked hand-in-hand along the promenade and watched street vendors push their delicious smelling foods and prized homemade wares upon us. In a place like this, money is of no value because it’s the sheer craftsmanship and humble earnestness that goes into making either an edible or consignment entity for the customer.
And you wouldn’t believe how the glistening mid-July sun melded with the offshore breeze. We’d just as easily be whisked off of our feet and taken with it, but then how would our hunger be satisfied? What would fill the empty real estate atop our kitschy tables and bookcases?
The wind can save us later, when we’re willing, ready, and able.
Searching for new reads?
Poetry about Strange Cars or maybe a fictional novel journal about a Dioramist protagonist who struggles with a passion for writing and a former love? Be sure to check out my published wares on Amazon if you’re interested.
Also, be sure to find me on Instagram @ blankpagesofmine and say hello!