This is Not a Dress Rehearsal

In my last writing, I posted my previous life’s commentary, in a short and incomplete manner. I have a plethora of questions going around a race track at a syrupy slow pace. I tell me self to not think. It was too much for me, so I found a positive image and slapped it on the page. 

The questions have not left me. There is no answer. Not at the moment anyway.

I am leaving Costa Rica and have to pack. I always wait until the day before. After twenty years of this coming and going, it has become a ritual.

Last night I tried to do a photo shoot. It was a second attempt. The rain decided to fall right at the time of our meeting.

The silver lining to the evening was my friends. A family I know through Crossfit. We went to dinner, and I had the Pargos Entero. The whole fish is fried.

We sat and I asked questions about Suriname, the South American country, that is where the mother of the family, is from.

It sounded like a photographic pot of gold. Fodder for yet another dream.

I know I could be more explanatory and descriptive, but I just don’t have it in me.

I wanted to post in my log. I simply want to have a memory of who I was.

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