Barefoot

This was my view every night before I packed my merchandise and was off to work....I lived in this hostal for about 4 months ...Gabriel lived in the room next to mine until we decided to share a room and our lfe for the time I would be living in Colombia. When I rose this morning I had my coffee a couple of glasses of water in the hopes my system can rid itself of the Jose Cuervo and the Coors light I put in it last night .....I'm feeling this great urge to get my life back. Time has been paused since I returned to New York and I am not happy living here anymore....I don't want to date anyone ....I don't feel passionate about my duties as an interpreter and it seems the only thing that motivates people here is money not for survival but sheer vanity and the accumulation of material wealth. I miss walking bare foot and dancing on warm Colombian pavement...I miss letting the rain fall over my head and not caring if I would drenched since the sun would dry my hair eventually...I miss eating the sweetest mango and watermelon as I strolled to the beach....I missed our daily picnics on that old Spaniard rooftop and smoking a joint right after with a cool glass of white wine .I miss sleeping nude and feeling a warm body cradle me through the night. I miss drawing senseless and writing while I listened to jHON and Steven practice tunes on their guitars or the Brazilian and Norwegian couple playing congas across from me. I miss those grey doors and that very modest way of living. I miss having less .......I don't want more of anything but to walk barefoot on that warm Colombian soil. Deborah