The books as thick as the pellets in the wharf lying like islands of Hawaii. I live in the coastal part of the city thus pier/wharf/quay/port is my dominant metaphors. I may add: seawall. Grefa, I remember, had sat on the seawall for a couple of times. Sitting alone, talking with neighbors, vendor, vendor's live-in partner--both r selling egg products. Today, I haven't seen her...nor the vendor! I see big waves now, making the top/seat part of the seawall wet with puddles of saltwater and some brown sea plants from far places. Her mother works in a hotel near some Chinese reataurant in the city. Her father, an office worker in OROPORT. (to be continued)
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