I strolled the streets of Limon for the first time as a pre-teen on the edge of opportunity and chance encounter.
What would the frame depict if the colors grew closer in range? Changing hue together as the seasons often do together and never away. The calm resolve of nature plagues the logical mind that humans hath created in the name of sinful testament
Time away from anything that isn't the moment at hand is wasteful.
"Waste not want not", they always say.
But who listens to the "they" as fact over fabled fiction into social norm? Do you blame the distance or the circumstance?
Should we have met the way we did or has Cupid played another sour hand of menace at the table of fates?