In a CHARLESTON double-house and on a long piazza overlooking red-tin rooftops, there is a possibility of no end to summer in the city when it should be autumn.
There are many stories itching to be told over about each sun-bleached house and its occupants and the second Yankee invasion and how the gods have giVen us stories in a dream that included eating white flesh of a rattlesnake.
Below the second floor piazza a young boy in a red cap backwards over his black hair talks loudly over his mobile and every word he says can be heard as he walks back and forth in tan shorts and his basket is perky and you can see the thing swing in his shorts when he moves.
The Young and the Beautiful and the Restless are so easily admired when you are no longer that age.
Upon entering Charleston from south of Rivers Avenue and into the city and down upper King Street and past giant construction of pilings for a structure I could not distinguish and past Magnolia cemetery, I was excited to see the City Limit Welcome to Charleston sign and for one moment Charleston felt like entering Manhattan and San Francisco and was as exciting.
Wish you all were here on the piazza too and we would play backgammon and sip wine and tell jokes and laugh under the ceiling fan...