Spain

I sit here on the balcony of my dreams looking out the window of the sea.
For just a few more days am I to be wrapped in this perfect weather. I move on to the next destination to join my husband on our march of the unknown year. Our sargeant the U.S. government. We have lived on the street of dogs, the house on the sea and now to share 15 square meters. Just 5 more meters than those of the jail cell they just confined the Spanish bullfighter to.

My weekly recycled clothes scream for retirement. My suitcase back to work after a 6-week vacation. My journal on it final count down to shelve the last four years; the start and end, not recognizable as the same.  

All past recent dreams being fulfilled teaches me that life is life wherever. Our fancy imaginations carry us away from what is possible around us. Romantic dreams dull the colored picture of our daily choices.  Hard to see in the shading the power we posses.  

 

I love Torrevieja Spain.  I love my bike.

We love the beach even when it is a little too chili to swim.

The pink salty lake that you smother healing mud all over, let it dry, then float in the salt water as you wash the mud off.