Last night, after pushing paint around on an old canvas, I turned up the volume, changed playlists and danced to rhythms that moved me from my head into my body. I recalled images of large-busted and wide-hipped island women swaying their bodies ever so gracefully and sensually. I used to try to copy their slow, subtle yet seductive dancing patois and was mildly successful within the framework of my own limited experience. In other words, a white woman on a Caribbean beach dancing her way into the sultry waves, color and heat of tropical rhythms. Last night, for the first time in a very long time, I was reminded of her, my younger self, and the all fun we used to have together.
lemon in with the salt bath crystals creole and stars