We were told in World Lit, to go into town, immerse ourselves in a busy spot, and just write. Write what we feel, what we are thinking, what we see. First I wrote a poem, that is in the post below. Then I just…wrote. Here is what I got out of it 
I am not the only one watching. An old skinny dog lies in the shade, calmly gazing at the scene before us. Ears pricked as a horse drawn carriage meanders by, horses prancing, sweating strong. The dog stands up, crosses the street, and follows a lady pushing her kid. She looks uncomfortable. Does he belong? He seems sweet, harmless. Where is the compassion? So many voices, smells, sounds, all rush by my senses. Bikes mix with cars mix with the clip clop of horses’ hooves.
So many people wandering. Are they here to shop? Are they local? Don’t they have obligations? Oh right, it is Sunday. Everything slows down on Sundays here. Everything is covered with a layer of dusty dirt. The sidewalk where I sit watching is uncomfortable. There is such a mixture of the times here. This place makes Its own time. Am I surprised I like it? So many stories walk past each other, unaware, barely brushing each other’s strings. But what makes this scene complete is the view down the street from me. Crashing, roaring ocean. A smooth breeze blows, and the sun glints off the water. Endless water.
I want this town to stay perfect in my mind. Please do not let anything smear that. The dog returns to the same shady corner and lies down again. Alone. Did he feel part of a family for a little while at least? I hope he has food and some sort of comfort. Somehow that ruined my whole view. Poor thing. Where is PETA when you need it? I think that man is drunk. He cannot walk straight, and oops! He is down- tripped over his own duffle. It is 2:00 in the afternoon. Good gosh. Now he is fighting with his lady friend. She is not having any of it. This writing is deteriorating into nothing. I am now just rambling and drunk man over there is yelling. That’s my cue. Aww! A little stray puppy! I am going to pretend that it has a nice family just waiting for him.
Wow, that woman looks like a man…a big scary hawaiian man. I want a horse. And a carriage. Maybe one of those drivers will teach me! How do you ask “Can I drive in Spanish?” I should look that up. I love this town, this ocean. But humanity is just not for me. Give me a horse and some mountains any day and oh my god turn your music down jerk!
