I can’t seem to get enough of the brilliant sunshine down here, and all the vivid colors. I feel like I’m drinking in a magical elixir of tints all day long. If I were a painter, I would have to craft a new paintbox filled with never-seen-before shades of blue, green, gray and brown. I’d need radiant pinks and purples, too, as well as bursting oranges and yellows. And the gold hue as the sun pours through the fog, well, it’s nearly transparent with a glittery edge.
The pace of life here runs very slow, even slower than at home. We take naps at random. I read my book of the moment outside at the picnic table. We ramble down the streets lined with restaurants and stores. We walk into little shops filled with handmade soaps and vintage jewelry. Ever on the lookout for an appropriate fountain to grace the front yard, we found these instead.
Art comes in all shapes and sizes, folks. Someone has created teacup art. You’ll have to use your imagination on that one.
Peace seeps into me as I sit in the tiny kitchen/living room/dining room, sipping coffee and writing this post. The train passing by emits a mournful call . My shoulders come unstuck from my ears. I breathe in and out. For a fleeting moment, everything makes sense.