2021 Sancha

Wind caresses the tall dry grass as you meander along, notebook in hand. Pausing to write the next line you find yourself stymied and resolve instead to sit for a snack near a tiny stream littered with wet stones. You unpack almond shortbread with cardamom, mineral water and the last peach of the season while cursing your mental block. Movement ahead catches your eye - flowing hair the color of lemon curd and a hand that holds a cluster of tiny white flowers. You gasp and grab your pencil, words now flooding onto the page.