days ago I planned to write about some girls who listened to talk the other day at Cascades. They were a couple of pubescent who avoided the sun under an umbrella while talking chicken flavor Norky `s. I tried to hear the rest of their conversation, but I was distracted by the image on the side: a family comprised of a mother, a father and a daughter of 19. I was curious to think the father, almost old, the body of his daughter, so beautiful. Could not watching her every now and then, until I focused on the mother arrived with a small bucket of plastc to wet the hands of the father, who never went to sea. I thought of the beaches further south and was wondering if 90 miles down mothers were also carrying water to the parents, or were people with pay and uniform. I felt lucky to be on that beach, with so many things to see and my sister beside me, commenting on what they saw each other almost telepathically.
A big wave came and knocked us around an ice cream truck, causing an uproar excited. I think people imagined a beach looting, but fortunately the refrigerator did not suffer more than the fright. People laughed heartily, without fear or staring point.
had originally thought that sounded pretty final for this post, after so long without one. But now my head is single-minded, and I can not write about what really matters to me. I can not verbalize well, so I prefer to distract me: go to the movies, read La Romana, take pictures, ride a bike and see friends. I wake up early and the day is long. Friends are a kind and want it to be possible that time goes very fast but it just the summer. Jump straight to the next, or perhaps back to the beginning of this. The first trip to the beach, the first snowcone, or before that even at the beginning of everything.
