Everyone has a story

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It's early, the sun only having peaked over the horizon, I sit watching the waves enjoying the tranquility of the empty beach, the sun warms my bones , I am content.

Further along the beach a man nearing his sixtieth sits staring at the sand between his formal black shoes, , He wears a black suit and a crisp white shirt and leans on a wooden cane, his head remains bowed.

We sit for about an hour, the man never moves, never raises his head just stares gracefully at the sand where he sits.

His attaire makes me curious at this stage the sun is rising fast and the tempeture is rising and some people are coming onto the beach, he remains motionless. Has he been recently bereaved, Is he praying or is he just listening to the waves before the start of another day, suddenly he stands up and walks away, I don't suppose I will ever know why this strange character spent his morning this way.
The beach is now becoming active, Some people are holiday makers and laze around with a carefree ease.

Mother drag little kids by the hand along the boardwalk, kids decked in Catholic school uniforms, their worn out mothers carrying the reed baskets popular in this area presumably on their way to market.

Yet other wander along the shore some watching the waves, others watching the holiday makers to see if there is potential to make a buck or 2. Groups of young men sidle up near where blond haired pretty gringos rub suntan lotion on each others backs, Many are successful in their pursuits as it's not unusual to see the local boys getting amorous with these girls after the sun falls.

Other men/boys wander along the beach stopping to chat wanting to "practice their English but sooner or later you're offer weed or other substances or an invite to a local party, One guy wanted to read my aura, for a price of course.

Further down the beach fishermen repair their nets with brown sunspotted hands they work rhythmically threading line to line, making floats and getting on with the business of making a tough living from the ocean

Elderly ladies wake the streets with reed baskets shouting "tamales tamales" as little boys scamper around them, sidling up to the gringos with forlorn faces in the hope that they might come away a few pennies richer.

I wonder who all these people are, where do they live, Are they happy, are they just surviving or is this just their world, there are worse places to live but most of all I wonder who was the man in black with the most forlorn look on his wretched face.

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Comments

[tommy]

man on beach
mabey he was headin for a job interview and was a little nervous.

[zuzuzu72]

either that or a pretty serious court appearance