“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
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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.
