“If you would not be forgotten,
as soon as you are rotten,
either write things worth reading
or do things worth the writing.”
Benjamin Franklin
Photo by L. J. Priest
Oceans
The winter is for the young and foolish. Give me a warm beach, with white sands and crystal blue waters. Take me away from the Nordic winds and bitter chills, and give me Latin music with a strong beat, a full dance floor, and a beautiful man to jump and sway with me into the early morning hours. Give me a strong drink of rum with a shot of lime, and a Cuban cigar smoldering beside my glass. I want to wake up in the morning and be greeted by a hot sun and warm breezes drifting in along the ocean shoreline. During my day, I want to move through a city that does not speak my language, but challenges me to communicate with words that are new and foreign to my ear. All around me I want to see smiling faces, and bright colors, and strange fruits and vegetables. I want to feel as though every day is a fresh day, and I am more alive now than I was yesterday. I want to wake from my northeastern daze and feel more vibrant with every breath of the Caribbean air. I long to be a foreigner, living in a strange and exotic land.
