Ah, the places I must return to. Work and cubicle dwelling has started in the big city, but it’s not irony for me to remember sometimes, at 8am on weekdays, that not long ago at this same time o’ day, I was rambling down the roller coaster Road on Saba, visiting Tricia and Michael or maybe just going down to the airport so I could time myself from Flat Point to Big Rock Market (best time: 32 minutes in my waning days on the island). When you wind around English Quarter out of Windwardside and start the short climb towards the base of Upper Hell’s Gate, you have about 10 yards where visibility down the steep cliffs to the airport is unobscured. Here it is. Good memories.
Behave, amigos, or don’t. Life is too short to be consistent 😉