Mirroring the weather outside, my mind is in a fog. I have managed to get my quarterly taxes paid and completed all the paperwork for Cuba trip, but those two acts required a focus and steely reserve that yours truly often lacks. I just might spend the entire week in Cuba sleeping on a beach. Who cares that we have spent a bundle to workshop with one of the world's top photographers? Priorities, darlings, priorities.
But, getting back to the beach, maybe I should spend my entire week there sitting in the single spot photographing whomever and what ever goes by. Perhaps I would get a reputation as the Americana loco who is burning her tender white skin on Havana beaches? Slathered in sunscreen and drinking tropical icy Blends while dozing in the sun, photographing while trying to keep the lens sand free and lotion free and really not worried about it at all because what the hell I'm happy in the sun away from the fog and I really don't give a damn.
See, this is the kind of fantasy that unrelenting fog provokes. Sand and tropical sun and doing absolutely nothing -- nada. Es todo muy bueno. Donde es mi cerveza?
|stock shot i found on pintrest|