Frogs stand , eyeing the ending oceans touches Fruit on shoulder - woman walks in front of tanning visitors from far off places here to grace the island with beach novels and naps. Zip wetsuit , speedboat serenade attempts in vain to drown the roar of ocean and soft coo of dove nor splash of body in pool or the glimpsed brief conversation in passing from no faced strangers
Low and conspicuous hang the cumulus cloud , or could be base of thunderstorms stiring brew. Return , Re - Turn to open ended , natural flow of water lines and bike bells toll , to late night samba and leave the propaganda , tender touches and daytime lunch , with night time conversational munch .
On orders from my younger sister to write what i see , what i feel , what i hear.... written long hand - i'm starting to enjoy this transfer from paper to screen, process of writing evolves by any means