Morning in Miami. My stuff is spread around in this white carpeted and painted concrete room. Out the window, the International Bank of Miami building, a very nicely designed modern office tower that looks like a 1920’s Spanish revival structure but 15 stories tall and taking up an entire city block, catches strong sunlight against a sky the color of Curatrix’s eyes.
Strange day yesterday. We traveled to Curatrix’s old work colleagues for a kid’s birthday party. Not very interesting, then drove through Palm Beach, Delray Beach and back to Miami. Saw charming small courtyards by Meizner, via Roma, Via Parigi. Venetian flavor but beautifully small scaled. Wood bracketed eaves and arcades. Small porches and flying walkways. Fancy stores filled with god awful yellow and orange clothes (why do the rich always dress in the most hideous tones?) and lot of diamonds.
On the way back, passed a pick up filled with Rednecks with an immense alligator in the bed, tail gate down. I tell Curatrix to slow down and we let it pass us so we can see it. Its monstrous, perhaps 12 ft long, its mouth and eyes covered with electrical tape. I assume it is alive but there are no signs of movement until we both see a hind leg move and then the beast rolls over, twisting in its thin ropes and losing some of the tape from its mouth. Not only is it alive but it is about to get loose, I can see the huge bastard rolling off the truck bed and onto Curatrix’s Volvo, crushing the hood and breaking through the windshield and we veer off to get away from this disaster about to happen. Cletis and Homer pull off to the side of the road as we continue on our way. Florida.
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