Antigua Memories
Sights and sounds from last year are returning to me every moment of my return. Tripping on the rough cobblestone streets, playing "frogger" with the rapid flow of traffic, untimed tolls of church bells reaching random counts before repeating a syncopated rhythm. Colors dance before my eyes as fabrics catch the morning breeze; shirts, blouses, dresses are hung from door frames or walls; purses, bags, and mats lay upon the walks and ground.
Guests arriving or leaving are talking in many languages of the world and in Spanish with similar pronounciation differences. Streets begin to fill with travelers and locals weaving a flowing pattern of life together.
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