South Beach does not lose its charm. The game goes on until dark. The wind dies down as it always does at twilight. I watched just as the brilliant light faded to pale blue. Soon pastel blue will give way to gold; gold to darker and darker blue. The evening star rises in a sky just about to go black.
Steps from the game of pick-up basketball, a bumper sticker announces the immanence of the Messiah. The twilight is messianic though wordless, shining on us all. Blasphemy, the orthodox might say.
There is something so satisfying about a ruin, especially when flanked by a thriving plant. This art deco gem is for sale and would take a fortune to restore.
There are children in this expansive tree; none on the climbing bars. Does anyone know the name of this tree? It might be a strangler fig with the strangling root-vines cut off.
These branches are bare but in a few months they will be loaded with bloom. Royal Poinciana will burst out in scarlet.
I like to gather up what might seem like dissonant notes.
