Mariachi Blessed
Leaving alone, an older man, played softly, to himself. Was it just for practice? Perhaps he liked the sound. Or did he play in thanks, a gift for his maker. David Garlick, Vallarta
Live & let love
I’ve found a place where I’m at peace, a place with many friends. With golden sand, seas that chant and palms that clap their hands. The wind blows gently, in my hair and I can be, just me, as flowers bright sing songs of love, “of love?” you say, to me. Yes of […]
Colours
Somehow between the sea and sky, the colour of our being exists. It varies with our changing moods, from sun lit mauve to sullen gray, as our aura’s mantle flares, to show the spectrum of our souls. David Garlick, Puerto Vallarta, January 1997
Cojines, Cojones?
He’s a fine man, tall, though a Gringo, but then no ones perfect, it seems. He improves his Spanish daily, though words create problems, you’ll see. So many sound rather similar. The verbs Ser and Estar, confuse. Practice is the only solution, though the locals we seem to amuse. He wanted his […]