from the cat downstairslady bugs, holden! a snail! no, don't run your firetruck over the ants please, they are doing what they need to do. ants. baby cows with budding horns. a rabid black cat downstairs that hardly lets us out our front door. matt wars with it. i feed it tuna to make up.
holden rides a trike on the roof in the wind and the sheets wave and the perfection of being breaks my heart.
baguettes are 20 cents.
whole wheat baguettes are 50 cents.
a latte is 50 cents too.
from the top of the hill yesterday i saw the sea all around. with stationary ships. i saw a cemetary and crooked cobble stones and the lighthouse we can see from our front window. i saw a tree growing out of a house and the vacant house no one will buy because of the spirits.
standing beside the water spring where people still draw water, tunisian man said when holden goes by it is good fortune. it's the fourth time he's seen us walk by that spot and he works in the office just there. just here. what makes living in a place is connection. openness. yes. holden. fortune. thank you, mr. mohammed ali. come see me anytime.
northern tunisia150-person picnic site
No comments:
Post a Comment