grentu

I found my father's old hat, sun-dried and a bit weather-worn, buried beneath vestiges of memories long passed. Wide-brimmed and soaked with information never taught in books - this was a true relic among miles of destroyed cities. I propped it on my head with little effort. For a minute there I imagined what it must have been like - twenty, thirty years ago - talking through the streets without a dime but filled with hope of a better day, and gratefulness for Today being what it was. I envisioned sea gulls squawking through cerulean skies. Rays of light breaking gently through scattered clouds. The smell of ocean waves and motor oil in my n