“Don’t you love being on your own?” I thought, how to answer? This woman appeared to want the truth.

“No, not after years of this experience. I learned, adapted, and now it’s time to take the next chapter with someone. I love dimples; if he has dimples, I’m swayed. Sounds silly–well, I like silly in a culture, from my observation, overly rehearsed, where’s the improvisational madness?”

“Maybe you’re in the wrong place, you sound like you belong in Barcelona or Mcyanos.”

“Oh yes. I have thought of that, dreamt it. Under the Tuscan Sun, DH Lawrence’s book, ” Lorenzo, In search of the Sun”-the euphoria of escape, but besides your wardrobe and possessions, your bag carries your personality, and mine goes interior.

“But you are so outgoing, I’ve seen you in social situations, I don’t think you know yourself.”

I laughed, the remark was so bullseye.

“So structure defines you? Hmm, that doesn’t titlt who I see in front of me, a plower of curiosity and human behavior.”

“My husband is here, let me introduce you.” I noticed him right away; he had dimples.

” I loved our conversation, and I hope to run into you again, somewhere, maybe in Barcelona.” She winked.

When we find a conversation, like a unique shell in the fallout of a wave, we pick it up, we wander in it, and sometimes it talks us through our own shell.