After yanking yards of a strangling (yet with pretty little flowers) vine from around one stand of banana trees on a recent morning, I sat in a rocker on the terraza with a V-8, and looked over thataway. It was a yummy 65 degrees or so.
Híjole de la madre, I muttered to myself, I should share this with my amigos on the internet, so I polished off the V-8, and went upstairs to grab the Kodak.
It’s against that far red wall that I hope one day to construct a rock-and-concrete sweat room. I want the entrance to be low like an igloo, and I want two wooden “beds” to lie naked on, one for me and one for company.
And a fireplace and chimney. Maybe I’ll hang some feathers on the wall, plus some ceramic skulls because you need atmosphere. Candles for sure.