I remember exclaiming into the wind. Those around me to hear my professions of love for all these inanimate things laugh at my wide-eyed wonder. But in my head I laugh a little too, because I knew something they didn’t—nothing is inanimate. All things are life.
Everyone walks on ahead and I fall behind observing everyone and everything, like I always do when I travel. We had just spent the afternoon having piña coladas and ceviche by the beach, under a gorgeous white tent, sitting on blankets with pretty patterns, lanterns and driftwood scattered all around us; all the while waiting for the sun to descend into the sea. I’ve always thought this place to have one of the most beautiful sunsets in this country. No one seems to know. They don’t seem to believe when I tell them. But then again, perhaps this place doesn’t resonate with them like it does with me.