Edna St. Vincent Millay and me. We will.
Working hard on the beach, getting sand-blasted. Nature's own exfoliation, the wind and the sand. One has to suffer for one's sun tan.
Suffering I have been, Caroline Of The Gypsy Skin. Not. Serves me right for saying, "Oh, I NEVER burn." Well, I do in the Dominican Republic.
They don't miss a trick here to make money...a small bottle of sun tan lotion...27 US Dollars.
So instead, I lay with hands folded across my décolletage by way of protection. Am expecting spectacular lines.
It's not that interesting, sunbathing all day, blog wise, as you will have noticed.
So here are some things I saw...
The Wedding Crasher having her photo taken with another group of strangers. It's sad. Imagine her holiday snaps - a whole album of her beside different people she doesn't know at all. I wonder if she'll make up names for us and little stories about the fun things we did together?
Then the two brilliant rainbow-hued macaws, having their photographs taken while perched on top of people's heads. I do hope they crapped out of revenge for the indignity of it all.
More locals coming up to touch my hair... It's not as though Caribbeans don't have curls, but I guess they don't have tumbling curls like mine - brown and gold in the sunshine, with random streaks of blue, purple and turquoise.
Not many people do.