October 22, 2016

We were biking downhill and we passed by a cluster of trees that were named “The Five Colors of Fall”. They were grafted in such a way that there were five vertical bands of colors on the leaves (green, red, orange, yellow, white). I thought about taking a photo to send to my dad but I was riding down the hill too quickly.

We soon reached the beach and tried to avoid the bath towels that were lying all over the sand-covered concrete. “This is where my closest relative lived” said the person in front of me. “His heart structure [sculpture] should still be over there” he pointed to the far end of the bay.

My cousin wondered if her grandfather was still alive. As we approached the doors of the club, we saw the old man dancing on the stage. “Oh dear”, my cousin said. He quickly jumped off to greet us at the entrance. I had agreed to take a photo with them.

A family friend had joined us and asked my mother where all his photos were. She admitted that she had lost the camera and watch that she was given and as a result did not have any of the photos with her. “Now who will do the mural painting?” he asked. Everyone ran off.