A few days ago, I’m walking back to my hotel. I notice an older man parking his bike against the bridge. I smile at him and say hello and he comes right over. “Where are you from?” he asks. “South America,” I reply. “Where exactly?” I explain how originally I’m from Guyana, but now live…
Tag: aging
seen and unseen
Maybe it was time to move, she thought. But go where? Everything was better before that restaurant arrived downstairs – before those umbrellas popped open. Had they even gotten permission to string them across the street like that – blocking everyone’s view? The restaurant came, and now carrying her heavy shopping bags to her second…