We trailed along the mountainside, echoing greetings to passerby in such a joyful fashion that sensation nearly overdosed on endless bottles of sheer delight. Descending upon the curved valley of stone couches, we imagined what kinds of fascinating shows might have played themselves out upon a dry dirt stage. The voices of actors-past wisped past our hungry ears like breath from the pottery kiln. And the view, hazy but shining bright, lingered bashfully in the distance. We moved around corners and stepped gingerly over funky rocks, smiling at exposed roots and hovering branches which had become densely greened by humidity’s caress (deep in the night). The lines of fellow journeyers continued like dedicated ants, and our mutual salutes became a kind of game. We reached the fortress, a structure lined with wood and open like the mind’s-eye during a rapid dream. All was well and many forms of humanity perched together in small clusters, tasting the crisp air together as though it were exotic syrup from some mystical tree. But we did not linger. We plunged forward with determination, for the hope of ocean tides churned consistently against the near future. After a small series of leaps, flashes and slow luxurious sips, we three made our way to the bottom of the mountain and trudged through the sand to the lip of the sea. And all was well.
Much later, music came by to syncopate the evening with its generous presence. Strings tightened, releasing such unpredictable vibrations, and laughter braced against the rough barrier of words left untouched like a forgotten meal. But we consumed every morsel with a passion, and sat back to observe the evidence of our verbal rampage. Time crept behind our backs and took us by surprise, in the dark, in the house, in the middle of the night…There is never a bad time for a good story!
January 1, 2012
Jennifer Montemayor
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