kaseystearns
I picture an old man, sitting on a bench, looking into the distance with a melancholy look on his face... then he jumps and begins to dance with his cane and walker in hand.
Sometimes I feel as though mangoes taste like the past; as if you are biting into a little piece of what natives ate. I feel as if in some other life I used to eat mangoes... just sit around a fire, eating mangoes as the sun set on the water. Maybe, hopefully.