Remember that Mediterranean beaches? The green sands of salty seaweeds- that humble and warm nakedness in people. Kids embrace all longing for hundred years of stories.
And all the nearly unending paved roads of names. Those kind bearded men of harmonicas and accordions. The endless beer toast. Streets may cold in time, but everyone's strong enough to wait.
Oh, that small brick church of lanterns.
You remember those murmuring French cafés. People learned themselves joy in books and silent observations.
I barely know anything about the gypsies.
1 comment:
age is mere numbers, so why worry? you have your entire lifetime to meet them. for, "in the end we only have death waiting, and that's fine" (GM).
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