TRAVEL

The Woman Behind The Beaded Scarf

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Assisi, Italy

I was intrigued by the woman behind the beaded scarf. The frail petite soul, stylish sweet-smelling body who walked by me. There laid an enigma of a perturbed individual who appeared lost and yet charmingly attentive. Her hands manicured. Her eyes restful, pure. Her face up and down sizing me. We made eye contact as she stepped away momentarily to a little corner to try a vintage 1020’s inspired hat. Her scarf removed, quietly revealing this wrinkless beautiful, virginal being. I wish I could have asked her a question or two; perhaps, she was the owner, a tourist or an employee, I don’t know but just as she came, she went, slipping away in the crowed afternoon.

The Wooden House

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The wooden house sat in the corner of Billsboro and Fallbroader streets in the Kingdom of Euboiro, up in the hill behind some oak trees, surrounded by nosy gossip du jour deliver neighbors, bordered by trees and calm ambience, humid weather and raggedy terrain, characteristic of the tropical climate. The houses were built ceiling to ceiling, on top of standing wooden poll sticks in such razor-thin proximity the neighbors could hear each other’s sneeze. Like many homes built in the area, miss Madeleine’s was of the same design, resembling a tree-house or a hanging stool to escape the frequent rain and ranging mud. 

Riding The Train

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It has just been one of those months. One for the books, one that you would add some hot sauce to it and still would not taste good. Yes, even my little bird is ordering, I sit still and let it be. Wondering where the train will land. Smiling. Riding. The train. I am.