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An Ecuador Year

1983-84. two or three times a week. i walked into the mountain hills. above the village. for an hour or two. drew. and returned. sometimes i painted. sometimes i kept the drawings. as drawings. exploring my own creativity. as well as a little. of the Andes. of South America. on the equator. that high up. shadows are chilly. sometimes i pushed the leads hard. just to see. how hard. i could push. before breaking. that lead. sometimes i spoke a long time. using a child-like street-language. because that’s all i knew. with the people. walking those pathways. who wondered. if i might be lost. in all ways. i learned a lot. about my world.

Ecuador
a smile still a smile
in broken Spanish

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last skate
of the season
broken ice

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broken bird song
silent cat advancing
quickly

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for March Prompt #13…