The Caribbean is the refuge that I prefer. A couple of hours away from Miami for the Keys.
Already, the doors.
Key West greets me with the slow pace typical of the southern lands, traders in front of their shops, crowded with local tourists, and the sea never far away. Emerald green like some watercolors that we sell naive painters. Down to the beach.
And I'm going there, the horizon is tinged with orange, fading gradually towards the quarter of the sky still blue. But here the night falls early, a sharp cut from light to dark. At Mallory Square is
more people. Especially at this time. Turned it into a kind of gathering. There is never off-season. They come here at sunset, even if it rains. Applauding the sun drowning in the waves is a memento to take home, like the Hard Rock Cafe T-shirts.
There are Japanese tourists photographing all the intellectuals with the note crumpled in his pocket for the visit to the house of Hemingway. In short, a kaleidoscope of people, souls, with their baggage of thoughts, fatigue, memories.
I love coming here, disconnect from the city, from steel and cement in my office that forced me in a suit and tie to the 22 degrees of stable climate, out when the boys will compete in the surf.
I sit in a corner apart, I do not need to see, I know, I know that moment when the sun is swallowed by the ocean and everything around you gold and orange and red.
squints his eyes with his legs dangling over the water.
"But how do you watch the sunset with your eyes closed?"
I had not noticed his presence, had a close to silent. Scocciatrice Of course, with lots of space had to sign right here?
I opened my eyes to situate it in my eyes, was barefoot, clutching him a towel, she swam, for sure. Of course you are doing to Caribbean? Her hair was still damp down from a makeshift bun, carrot. Yes the color of his hair reminded me of the carrots. Arrived at the foot of a long skirt and a faded T-shirt did not hide the stains of wet bathing suit.
"Can I?" I asked, pointing with his hand corner of the pier.
"I do not think is reserved, please" I said. Hoping that a chair would leave me alone with my thoughts. With those I had come for the weekend.
"Then why was standing with his eyes closed? It is a wonder this sunset "
is, never trust a carrot-haired grandmother would say, too talkative, too funny, too.
"I was thinking. And then I see this sunset in a long time now, "
" Ah, how wonderful. Live here? "
" More or less. I live in Miami, I come here on weekends "
" It's lucky you know. Some people may see this show once, or who has worked hard to afford this trip "
I never thought of. The fact that I was lucky. But you know everyone sees his glass with his own eyes. My seemed always half empty.
I saw her rummaging in her bag, pulled out two plastic cups and a bottle of drink.
I can not believe, I thought. Frowning. She noticed it. He smiled.
"Excuse me, think that is a scocciatrice. My grandmother always says that I chat too much and that sometimes people do not like to listen to me "Here
her grandmother would go along with my grandmother.
He opened the bottle and poured the contents into the glasses. Handed me one.
"Thank You" I was surprised to answer. And I was also surprised to have thirst, dry throat and felt it was not just the heat.
I looked better, had a nice cut of the face and eyes were clear, the skin was stained red, as those unfamiliar with the effects of the sun down here. He had a diamond that glittered in the nose when he turned toward the sun.
He talked of his travels, one of the places where it was, for work or passion.
He had a way to mention that I liked.
He stopped only when the sun touched the ocean. Do not applauded. The wind was moving the strands of hair around the face. I rediscovered to think that I could be anywhere. On a corner of Africa, or in the world of the Orient, an island or a desert. My head was spinning.
"Sorry, I've bored"
"No, tell me again"
The light faded gradually.
We left the sky dressed in black.
Theses hands to help her up. And I held her hand in mine as we walked to Duval Street.
I slept with her that night. And the map of his body was crushed between the sheets.
walked with her on the way to Santiago, shared a night in Paris.
Every time I phone rings and I propose a trip. It is my compass. Search the north. He says.
I do not know what I'm looking for.
rolled down the window of my car, the sea air around me. It's Friday I'm going to the Keys.
To see the sunset.
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