the reddest of reds

travel log.

it rained all the way there and back. i opted for the red summer shoes and art of pretending it was not nearly as cold as it was.

official mission accomplished. the village was awesome and so were the people there. i miss people undistributed by the city concrete madness and houses where people live ,not just habituate.

did I mention the shoes?

the small town we all eventually come from was smaller than ever...same people same stories I just smiled along and looked good in the process....it breaks the heart how nothingy the interim life is over there, the life those same people lived to the hilt once and I watched them then and wanted a life like that...we stood in front of the gigantic portraits of kings and queens and we, the king and the queen of the comebacks, just breezed through the crowd almost floating me in my reddest heels ...we just visited again...

the nice sweetish Italian wine in big glasses is no longer available...the seat at the bar across from everyone else was mine one more time for the onlookers...big chunky men to look at flexing muscles and a good bite out of where do we go from here conversation that went well ...better than expected... we are ok and there's gonna be more room for me in us -  not that I was asking I 've already made plenty of room for myself but the need noticed was a nice reminder why we are still travelling in pair.

...sorrow tastes like sugar in a jar of fruits you bring out to offer to the guests... when it rains like this for days pouring down all the time  and you forget when it started and feel like the outburst of heaven crying  is never going to end...just like the saddest music of morphine.