We all travel in a line around here, between mountains and sea, making stops at key destinations along the way, much like boats seeking harbor at successive ports as they
sail up or down a coast.
This particular voyage brought me to this port late in the day. I parked in a neighborhood somewhere behind that flagpole in the distance and proceeded to join the masses from every corner of the earth. One foot in front of the other, with each step a different language is heard. I enjoyed the choir while walking the length of the pier and circling back around the harbor and out to the end of this breakwall.
With my large backpack, complete with a rusty bucket clanking around back there, I was glared at like just another down-and-out fisherman who’d lost it all, but wasn’t ready to walk away from the harbor just yet.
And now that the sun has set I’m not ready to walk away either. I don’t feel finished with this painting, but this day is finished with me.
-Entry on August 23, 2016