barrelling north on 95, hoping to round the Washington Beltway riding rush hour’s crest.
burnt coffee in a styrofoam cup, and Krispy Kreme the freshest pastry in sight. we must be on the road in the USA.
Gulf coast sunset http://bit.ly/bvvZwT
sputtering into the Gulf, Sol splashes orange-purple on the western sky, just as Luna’s orange globe crests the eastern horizon. #moonrise
the modest irony of Pine Island: it is covered with acre upon acre of nurseries, growing row upon shadowed row of… palm trees.
driving past pint-sized houses originally bult for wintering midgets, on this first evening clear enough to see the sunset.
when dining out, in a semi-tropical land overrun by aging North Americans, don’t expect any innovation or spice on the menu.