If I wanted to, I could have had a sweet twist out to rock. However, since I had worn my hair out the previous day, I felt it was time for another ‘put it away’ look. This hairstyle is straight forward, three major sections followed by a pin up whichever direction to your desire.
Remember that Billie Holiday song ‘Strange Fruit’, her recreation of an unpleasant reality. Well, I found another strange fruit, one more enchanting and surprising, peacocks.
This house pulled me away from hunger and the juicy, well-seasoned red snapper I tore into a half hour later.
I've seen this head of hair countless times this year, so introductions were not necessary. Phew. And have after meeting up with her again this day she and her hair had me thinking.
The Help (2011) is one of those movies that motivates me as a writer, every single time. After which, I start thinking if there are in fact things that bother me, things I can make constructive noise about.
Part of being on vacation is sitting and being in awe, at least in my definition, but I think I ended up gawking much. What am I looking at here? Rocks. They seem like fingerprints as they have their own shape, texture and such. Why am I looking at rocks? I’m looking at rocks because I can’t make one. They’re one of those things in nature we often take for granted yet we hope that our self and identity are solid as they are.
The store’s sale sign pulled me off the road and into its Cole Bay parking lot. Soon, my fingers were rummaging through items that were now reasonably priced; towels, washcloths, hand towels, Egyptian and thick with the promise of durability were neatly folded on the shelves. I had to restock.
'The place hot' and of course, you already know that. If you are like me, you’re skipping from shade to shade, blasting fans, cooling off in air conditioning and coming out in the evening like a desert ant. I had to go and get some reinforcements, ice cream or my go-to sorbets.
I went looking for it, this house that occupies the corner of my eyes on long drives down Frontstreet. A large almond tree umbrellas its weary head and its wooden planks and cedar shingles are jagged with age. Behind the house is this large stone structure I thought at first was one of those old time ovens. When the stairs leading up to the top came into view, I was stomped.
It’s become a bad-good habit, eyeballing people’s hair wherever I go, and when my eyes locked on this silver crown, I guarantee you, my approach was a stumbling one but worth it.