A Looking In View

I'll take words for a thousand Alec.
Dirt roads washed out by the rain, rocks stick out, making it almost impossible to drive, and nobody will pave them any time soon…
After the downpour, the beautiful tropical clouds float in the sky and the water collects in the streets, people patiently wait for the bus by an artificial lake. They stare as you wade through, but people are always staring here. It’s the kind of stare that sizes you up as one more tourist. You bore them, nothing you could do would surprise them, but they want to see it if you decide to try.

It’s humid and the sun beats down, but the storm brings some wind and fresh air. Motoconchos whistle to see if you want a ride, but today you’ll walk. You’re gonna try to enjoy it, try to appreciate the jungle in the post rain air. Off the side of the road, palm trees spread out over countless impossibly green, jumbo leafed plants. Halfway there, you tire of this great idea. There’s a rock in your sandals, and the sweat begins to drip from your brow and soaks your back. It reminds you of the all too frequent, redundant walks at home, but without the chill, and your heart races at the thought.

In a land of palm trees, sand and words that mean nothing, it should be easy to relax. But you have to be good at it, you have to know how to waste time, and you don’t. So you plan out every part of the day, and you spend a month getting things done. Luckily, one of those things is taking runs on the beach. You skirt the water as it pulls and pushes at the white sand, lifting your feet when you splash through the receding water. Cooling off in the azure blue Atlantic, you bathe in the perfect water and stare at the palm trees growing right up to the water’s edge. This is why people come here.

It’s November and it’s hurricane season, so almost every day it clouds up a little, bringing relief from the persistent sun. Shifting grey clouds creep up over the trees, but rays of sunlight shoot through. Cool rain dots the surface; you stay in the water and turn towards the reef, water breaks offshore, and in the sky is the brightest rainbow you’ve ever seen. Amazing, even the color below violet, the one you never see, it’s forming, like a hazy translucent greenish white, further marking the brilliant contrast to the swirling dark sky behind. You sit floating in the salty water, dumbfounded in awe. And then another rainbow forms above it. A double rainbow.

As you dream, she’s there, she’s here. Does it matter? Because you won’t be. You’ll be nowhere near where you need to be. Past wondering why, you’ve become good at looking at the bright side of things.
And if you time it right, you can pretty much have this side of the beach to yourself. The wet sand gives as you put your foot down, trying to make your way back. Nothing but water, sand, shells, trees and clouds. The colors and shapes change on their schedule, and you try to notice. Your distracted mind, mislead by hope and logic, tries to make sense of it. And all these things probably have names, perfect names, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Guess it’s time to get home and start working.