Lovely Little Imagination

Ah, that feeling when the shore air moves delicately around your skin and not through your bones like here in winter...how naturally luxurious. The difference between a seaside breeze and a landlocked breeze is the difference between making love and having sex. The feeling lingers like a beautiful disease plaguing your mind with delicious memories long after the moment has passed.

 I love to imagine the electric orange sunset giving way to the faint violet patches of sky that play hide and seek right before the rum-soaked night casts its spell over the Caribbean cities. The first (and only) complete book I ever wrote was written the second time I visited. I was so inspired. I became infatuated with an older man on that trip, or rather the idea of him. He was tan, blonde, and charismatic. I was young and shy, nothing happened, just an exchange of looks. He became a character in my book. The object of desire for my heroine, Lydia.

One thing I love about traveling is that while the physical destination is known, the spiritual destination is not. Travel changes you, whether you are open to being changed or not.

Once at home, I would gaze out the window of my work station and imagine that the telephone poles were dilapidated palm trees. I saw myself at the mouth of the Caribbean, ready to kiss it passionately. I wrote until I believed I was once again there. It was in those days that I fell into the hands of imagination like a woman falls into the arms of a dangerous love...without thinking about it.
There is an incredible amount of beauty and satisfaction in just not thinking about it.