Vintage Savannah

Big changes were on my mind, life altering actually, but then again aren’t all changes in their own way?

I wandered the streets of Savannah, and let the vintage store fronts help my mind come to it’s final conclusion.

The hanging Spanish moss gently brushed my shoulders as I passed. The historic town squares with their statues of great men long dead speak wise words in otherworldly tongues.

I sit on a park bench in the early morning light and try to listen.

As I sit, a homeless gent comes up to me. We talk for a bit, then he asks if I can spare some change. I tell him I haven’t had breakfast yet, but if he’d like to come along, I was buying.

He does.

I head down to the riverfront. It’s still peaceful and quiet, the day hasn’t really begun for most people, only those early morning runners and those of us that have unsettled thoughts. I find Savannah’s “waving girl”, and her steps are a welcome comfort.

At the end of my wandering a decision has been made. Sometimes all it takes is a different place, a new perspective, a meal with someone new.

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Wench, bring my ale, what say you?