the scent of morning coffee

Starting the day ....

Coffee.

Coffee.

Beyond the cactus garden of the outdoor restaurant, waves can be seen rolling across the bay.  Not large, but constant .. a small machine born of swells hundreds of miles away. The scent of salt water mingles with hot coffee and the simmering eggs from the tiny kitchen.  Mexican living is simpler. Sweeter somehow.  A couple of pick-up trucks pass by on the dusty roads.  No freeways.  No tall skyscrapers. Nothing to assault the senses.  Made to scale block buildings, colorfully painted, covered in olas – palapa roofs.  A donkey wanders down the road.  Roosters cry a few doors down.  The sky’s been lit for a very long time, but they don’t seem to care.  Freshly made tortillas arrive, steaming in their woven basket, along with small jars of butter and jam.

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