Show and Tell

Letters From Provence

In Uncategorized on September 17, 2017 at 6:18 pm

I lived in the Caribbean for two years, in an apartment building across from the liquor store.  The building was book-ended by a medical clinic on one side and a psychiatric hospital on the other. The apartment was called “The Caribbean” and affixed to every door, besides a number, was the name of an island. I lived in Guadeloupe one year and Martinique the next. I really wanted a chance to live in Antigua, but it was on the third floor without silver fish and therefore commanded a higher rent. The building looked like a roadside motel, with an exterior balcony that ran the entire length of the top two floors. Martinique was on the second floor and I’d climb the stairs on the opposite side of my island to walk past the uncovered windows of my fellow islanders who’d be watching television, washing dishes, reading People magazine or knitting tea cozies. Sometimes I saw them undressing, but it was all sweatshirts and shoes, never camisoles and panties.


Ford City