I’m home, mon, but the islands are still in me. No hurries. No worries.
Pitched it all in on Bahamian beaches. Left the digital behind and embraced island ways. Made fast and lasting friends with my inner Conky Joe. Laid back, un-tracked, sun smacked, don’t give a crap, slack. That’s me right now. That's me.
I’m caught in the rhythm of out island flats. Wake with the dawn, walk for da bones, work on a bottle of rum wit' da boyz. Set your troubles aside for another time. Simple.
I’m good with simple. We could use more simple.
So excuse my sloth in telling the tale. Soon, I promise. Soon. But, for the moment, I have a sunrise to catch.
Ya, mon. Dere be a sunrise to catch.
2 comments:
One of these days your inner Conky is going to forget how and why he has to leave and no one will ever hear from you again. It will be like when Chuckie is telling Will that the best part of his day is the ten seconds from when he pulls up to the curb till he gets to the door because he thinks Will won't be there. No Goodbye. No see you later. No Nothing... Just Mike on some beach somewhere looking at a sunrise thinking about bones and a rum drink.
We will remember you fondly.
You never know, my friend. You just never know. And a great flick, by the way. Thanks.
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