Hi hey hello from a sunny roof terrace in southern Spain. Yesterday me, my mom and my mom's co-worker's dog Egon arrived in Malaga in the late AM. Having woken up at 3.30am to catch our flight, I felt as if I'd had four beers although all I'd had was some crappy airplane coffee. We drove for not even an hour, through the mountains that still look lush and green compared to the dried out trees I'm used to having spent my summers in this country for as long as I can remember. We arrived in Nerja and I finally got to see the townhouse my parents bought last spring. It was warm and humid, a thunderstorm rolling in over the small Mediterranean coastal town, but we managed to clean up the roof terrace before a monsoon-like rain fall hit us.
This morning I woke up around 8am after sleeping like a baby for 10 hours next to my snoring mom (ignoring the fact that I take after her in just about everything, including breathing patterns). The sun was just rising so I went out for a run, stopping along the way to take photos of the ocean and the hills and the flowers and everything I crave living in New York. It smelled of banana plants and soil as I ran through the towns centre. The small streets and alleys were dead quiet except for a few cats and dogs meowing and barking at me. On my way home I stopped at the fruit shop for oranges, mangoes and avocados and at the bakery for fresh bread. We ate in the sun on the terrace. And since then I've done some work, hung out in the sun and just now I cracked open a beer. All wearing my swimsuit and shades. Why don't we always live like this?
Swimsuit from H&M and shades from Sunnies Studio.