Rust and broken brick.

Warm blue skies and fiery red roosters. Ocean water that’s been liberally salted and heated to the degree of fresh tortillas, hidden under a pink embroidered napkin.

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Candy colors are dulled with both time and dust.

Tattered flags wave a weary greeting to the millionth group of tourists to gaze up into their limp, time-worn frames.

Frigates soar, motionless, as if perpetually surveying their domain and approving of its condition.

Pelicans engage with the spacial offerings of the sea, dipping down as if to acknowledge its upward efforts.

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A child with cupped hands hopes for money (or candy) by the side of the road. his hair short, his face dirty, and his eyes have little joy in them. 

A woman with a turquoise apron + mocha-colored skin grills chicken in her storefront every day. Her silver tongs like an extension of her right arm, ever-ready to make necessary adjustments at just the right moment.

The dogs seem slow to beg here, as though their association with people has little to do with treats or favorable physical touch.

Hefty coconuts hang heavy with thick, pithy fiber; rich, silky meat; and warm sweet, water. Brittle brown palm leaves crunch under foot, yet refuse to change their shape, despite their inability to photosynthesize.

Dragonfly migrations and crab inhabitation of all objects left to lay too long.

Pool water ripples under a traveling wind, relaying its messages across the surface until it reaches the boundary of its existence.

Bug bites and tan toes.

Sunsets like a performer (ballet dancer), confidently displaying her mastery and range of disciplines.

Laughter of a dozen voices echoing around a room; resting on a terra cotta tile floor, soaking into the sun-colored walls, tumbling out the door.