Thursday, June 22, 2017

Week in Seven Words #346

At different points in the hike, we smell heavy flowering shrubs, a days-old tuna fish and banana odor from the waste treatment facilities, throat-scorching exhaust fumes, the cleanness of salt water and suntan lotion.

The homes are in cream, peach, and plum colors. They overlook a river that has a silver sheen in the mid-day sun. Hibiscus shrubs line the paths, and swan-shaped flower pots nestle in the shade.

We try ballroom dancing one evening, and we laugh much more than we dance.

She's a silent, steady hiker. She wears headphones and walks at an unvarying pace.

There's a story wherever we look - off the shores of the island, there was a boat accident that killed hundreds, and in the shade of a massive bridge, a grove of trees has been planted as a gift from a foreign prince.

Most of the graffiti images are cartoon characters and portraits of local residents. They stare at bricked-up warehouse windows and smile across unused train tracks.

For neighborhoods along the shore, the marshes offer different kinds of protection. They help filter pollutants. They reduce erosion and flooding. They're a bit of nature stitched to the fringes of a city.


Brian Joseph said...

I like today's hiking theme.

What you wrote for "inhaling" is all too often reality.

Is the boating accident that you refer to The General Slocum disaster?

HKatz said...

Yes, that's the one.

Roderick Robinson said...

Pastels. Almost indistinguishable - phonetically - from pastilles. So much so that they come with a caveat emptor: you suck this and you draw with that. You'll be disappointed if you confuse this dichotomy.

HKatz said...

@ Roderick - Maybe there is an artist out there who has managed to draw with melted pastilles :)