July 21, 2008
Still, there are places where time seem to just stand still. Where love, serenity, and the arts seem to gather in the reefs of the Keys. Crossing Key Largo, Islamodora and to the outskirts of Marathon where the aqua reflection of sky and sea seem to be bleak and without separation. The cotton balls in the sky kept company as glimpses of the caribbean and the gulf merge to a finite point at the end, where Truman found his tranquility and Hemmingway found his masterpiece. Only without time and only can romanticism be the nourishment that stems the beauty from this place. Every frame captured a piece of my soul in that moment, from the shadows that danced across the mellow waves to the small gossip along each parlor and bar along Duval Street. Accompanied with love, the streetâs gentle stroll like an ice cream cone on a hot summer afternoon, melting away slowly enough for each companion to taste its sweet, cool, softness as if to seal a kiss.
Down the northern docks lie small marine nettings where sweet little hands keep the fishes below nibbling on treats, crashing against the water crest to give an image more relative to a painting of colored water. Nesting adjacent to the lines of skippers was the local conch farm, the jumble shrimps and flavored clams reached every tastebudsâ fantasy. The sounds of reggae echoed across the marina, the melodies were calling the sun to rest her face on the warm ocean breeze. Two beauties add life to the calm docks that blended itself to the glowing backdrop, while a fraternity of friends lowered their poles for an evening adventure as they know that those moments will shortly pass as memories of boyhood charm, these are the secrets of Key West that are meekly shared only to the traveler and never the tourist.
The cool night breeze creep down every alley and every shore, the narrow streets seemed to be filled with life where strangers become friends and love seem to always find its way, and the lost pirate finally on a wind towards home. As the evening dresses meet the cabana silk shirts, the buzzing of vespas filling the intersections, the announcements under a toast, one canât help to believe that this southern belle is a collage of dreams come true, perhaps, one never wants such a dream to end.
~Key West, Florida