The smell of spices pervades the air, as the hot sun beats down on the people in the crowded market; the only shade in sight exists in a small garden located down a narrow alleyway. A warm breeze sweeps through the crowd providing little relief to wick the sweat from the merchants tanned brows. The streets pulsate with electricity. The city is a collective body breathing as one, the street performers’ providing a heartbeat with their drums…
I am feeling a bit exotic today. You know, the kind of feeling that makes you want to pick up belly dancing and buy plane tickets to Morocco. There is something seductive about the smell of spices, warm breezes, and Arabic music. They make for excellent romantic adventure novels or sequences of epic dramas.
Unfortunately, I am nowhere near an exotic destination. I am in a cold, rural county in America, the type of place with green pastures, cows, and farmers in plaid shirts. (No offense to farmers.) But every once in a while, a wanderlust for different lands overtakes me and I feel like using my small bank account to purchase a traveling wardrobe and a plane ticket to anywhere but where I am at the present moment.
Do you know the feeling?
No comments:
Post a Comment