I've heard the distance isn't all that far. Music is traveling to the basement and up the stairs. Water must be in the way, ..of Florida's latest Hemingway and Bob's mathematics. I flew from Miami to Haiti. Some of the nicest people in the world seem to exist there. That was a while ago. 1991. And It was one of my better experiences, but not necessarily an experience I would be able to repeat. Heat. And so much more, understand an old perspective on slavery and revolution, and why don't they have everything. The truth is by the time I got there, they had more than I did. Maybe I should have stayed and just to see what would happen to someone who looked slightly different. I wasn't religious, but I don't think you need to be to learn it. I tend to not be something 100% of the time anyway. That was an early attempt to learn French, the Caribbean, mountains, Catholic vs not being Catholic. Voudoo of course. Econ? They like people with money too. Generally interesting streets. Great music From somewhere, handmade wood construction cad and painted. The goat skin stretched over the taught. The iron market where I looked at the floor. I realize this isn't the best writing about people because you usually travel with people and without people. This could be a novel too someday, but they have their own stories to tell. With a drum or computer. As a vacation, it's as good as anywhere. Zora Hurston, Maya Daren, are people who help give me a few memories. Is it different from Brexit? No. Because it's different countries and a different artistry. But the water is between us, and the language still has an accent.
Angel une ou deux.
If you go, it will be different from when I was there. I don't know if anything changes all that much anyway. I'll get sensational or spiritual or think about influence or when I'm not frozen.
They need food
Medicine
Clothing
Money
Architecture
And so do we. It's a different climate, tropical and deforested. I would consider the difficult fields too. Greatly altered by me when I purchased the banana's on the side of the highway potholes.
Art is plentiful.
Painting a clinic as best I could.
A friendly reminder to quit smoking.
Above freezing. Save something. How would I get there from here. Maybe Africa first. Then Antarctica. Then the other morning searching for the quit ad. Wait till you get to the good part. Am I ever going to exit? And would I want to?
They will never read this or the translation somewhere? French is the primary language, and Zombie absence.
The Jeep in the creek, a bakery, the priest driving, pulling over to teach a child that cars are dangerous. The thorn fences, A football blister, terrible earthquakes and hurricanes in the Media. Does media need me? To perform backstage? Is the camera digital? Photographing other photos is a prank I pulled on myself once, while going to space in the Space Shuttle. Tarantula hills, the night drums communicating. Is hemp there? Intelligence test.
Would they like this story in Port-au-Prince or any town on the way to Cap Haitian? Or on the beach at night as we talked. London or Brussels? Eventually?
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