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Storyteller

Another Sunday Spot

Ahhhh, just to sit among the bushes and shrubbery, no ocean, no seagulls, no fishing boats. Just the scent of the volcanic soil, a black and white rabbit that stood at the trunk of a small tree watching you, suspicious of your motives. Butterflies perched lazily on leaves, their multicoloured wings fluttering as a gentle gust of wind swept through the trees.  Small birds whistled in the tree lines, a donkey brayed in the distance,  an army of ants marched across the fallen branch, the smell of sugar cane from the plantation just beyond the valley, the sky changes from morning gray to mid morning gold. Yes man, life is an endless summer on a tropical island.