I love to just walk with no purpose around a city, and just see where the day takes me. The November air in the Mile High City is about two seconds away from snowing, which always creates a special aura in the air, and in people themselves.

I enter Union Station, which is bustling with travelers getting a quick drink or a bite to eat. I wander around and find myself below the hotels in the underbelly of the city, where dark bars and quirky restaurants lie. I choose an Oyster Bar but eat lobster squash soup. It hits the proverbial spot and warms me to my soul.

I venture back outside into the chilly night air and warm myself by a fire heater while people watching, then make my way over to the Theater district.

I order a Jack on the rocks…”Would you like to make that a double?“…I sip slowly while watching the happy scene around me as couples in love and tipsy groups of friends find their way to their seats for the show of the evening.

The next morning I rise early and make my way down for breakfast. I’m the sole person this early in the morning, but they serve me anyway. The coffee is as divine as the charm of this little place. The food tastes so flavorful I’ve no doubtful it’s as locally grown as they claim.

The snow is still falling as I step outside and walk towards the MCA. Sunday mornings are made for art museums, in my humble opinion.

Inside I find the weird and the wonderful. Creativity overflows here, and I’m stumped, mystified and inspired all at once.

I have just enough time for one more stop before I need to head back to the airport, and a local bookstore is calling my name. Deep mahogany wood bookshelves and dark leather chairs are so inviting that I just find a book and sit for a spell to read. It doesn’t matter that I won’t finish the book, I just want to read the words on the pages and disappear for a moment in the luxury of escapism that books provide.

Yesterday my niece tells me “I’m sorry that you don’t have a family and are all alone.” 

“I’m not alone, I have you, and the whole world to keep me from feeling lonely.”

“Oh, well thats good. I love you”.

She is four.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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