People of Pisces
The river flowed in a zigzag direction of an orderless flow.
Sunup and a clear-skied lid.
Towering windmills populated the hilly green mounds. The four-bladed turbines rotating counterclockwise to the clockwise wind.
One pebble-filled path to follow. The surrounding meadow filled with orange tiger lilies and black-eyed geranium. Pretty.
Cibuco Cafe
The rooster stretched and crowed the sunup.
Manus Neco, relaxed and inspired, nudely seated on a timber rocking cradle, serenading the countryside of Corozal.
Noodled and twanged by the Flat-Footed Astronaut, melodious, and with imbued swing, his custom wooden ten-stringed keyhole-shaped Cuatro chanting.
The Cuatro
Wavy jet-black was the young boy's hair. Seated on a banquito, a small wooden bench, he picked and strummed his seashore-colored Cuatro.
The lute guitar seemed olden. The strings twisted at headstock.
Its tuners careworn and loose from continual bad tuning. The rosette was ripped, and the bridge clinging to black wire tape. Gooey adhesive on the soundboard, vibrating to his improvised tune.
¿Qué te ofrece Cuatristas.com?
