My Santiago

They walk.

To my eyes, They are beautiful; My Italian couple. They hold hands, They walk, They are gently curious and even gracious. They have the manners From the ‘old’ country as they nod and say “Good evening” with slight accents. And I, I am the persistent voyeur into their lives, Looking on and looking in. I know that one day, I won’t see my Italian couple on my walks anymore.

And my life will be diminished.