Outside the window from where I sit to write I can see a row of houses in the distance. Reddish, yellow, white, against the blue, clean sky. In between - a large patch of land with mostly dry grasses but here and there short bushes rise, cacti, birds, a white horse tethered to a bush eats slowly and deliberately, moving ever so carefully, unable to go very far. In the morning the sun streams and falls on the desk, the floor, my hands. It's comforting because the air temperature is cool. I turn my face towards the shining orb and smile.
Today we went to the mall nearby. White buildings, open spaces, the usual shops plus a few different ones. David shopped at Liverpool: a shirt and a sweater. Lunch outside and then a game of Qwirkle at The Italian Coffee Company. This mall reminds me of the shops in San Isidro (Buenos Aires) with second floor walkways, white marble, and clean spaces.
One of the peculiar things I like to do when I travel is to go to the supermarkets, see what they offer, what's different, what's the same. It's been said enough times already but I keep living it: it's a small world. The same brands, the same shops. There is something comforting in that I guess. We stocked up on wine, beer, cheeses, fruits, pasta; took a taxi and came home.
The afternoon found me on the lower deck reading and napping before climbing up to the upper deck for some tequila with lime. The melodious blackbird sang to us perched near the copper dome. The sky turned pink, dark blue, and then black.
This evening I did it again! I was being compulsively social once more, inviting our downstairs neighbors up for a glass of wine. Can't help myself. I like people. I enjoy listening to their stories and telling mine. But I did put in a few hours of writing this morning and I'm writing now, at ten pm, before going to sleep.
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