Delving into the somewhat creative, instead of the pragmatic, for today’s #MondayBlogs. (Ahem, also known as the bizarre stream-of-consciousness I experience. Ha!)

Once in a while, I just want junk. Really, food with very little nutritional value that is packed full of preservatives. There’s no rhyme or reason to when this hits me, but when it does, I find the nearest depanneur and buy a small bag of potato chips.

My short journey is accompanied by a cast and crew of colorful characters. There is the dreamer, gazing skyward, seemingly oblivious to the harsh heat of day as he sits on the sidewalk. The dancer, winding through traffic in a dangerous ballet. The talkers, movements suddenly Greek and Italian in the excitement of the words they are sharing. The woman who walks, short distance, pacing, aimless…purposeful in her movement, yet no destination ahead. The ruffian who pretends to great power and place. The small packs of teens, trying on toughness on a street that once was quiet.

Among the palm trees and the cactus, there is a gritty play afoot, marked by all that passersby try not to see in a peaceful resort town.

The director and producer of this play are one and the same: They are called addiction, and despair. And we prefer our blindness to the view they afford.

Thank you for reading!

Blessings to you all…