The Boatride

The Boat Ride
It is a hot day in the summer months of 1932 i am sitting on a boat an old parched wooden sailing vessel
and i am free for the first time since i had my two babies Margot and Joseph. I am unbuttoning my lace collar fresh and starched and i can feel the wind saturating the bodice of my laced corset which is making me itch i hold a new fangled box camera and look outward my eyes taking in the whole picture. My hat is being held by my hand as i concentrate on holding my bonnet down but the wind is urgent and mad like a tiger searching hungry stifled suffocated and ready to pounce i wonder what am i doing on this ferry in such as strange land. Yet my life as i have known it has been such a bore and my daily chores have enveloped me strangling all of my passion for living. Who am i really i am dressed in the latest English fashions my stautre is graceful and i am fluent in speaking spanish a language so unruly but charmed.