Building Blocks (memory sensuous)

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In response to the comment from Elizabeth Rawls (E.Rawls Dreamer), I used the just thought up term ‘memory sensuous’.  As I read her comment, I thought of a ‘Steve’ vignette that I had told an acquaintance a few hours before.

It was 29 years before the turn of the century (sounds so historical…no, not hysterical!), in the year 1971, and I was on a trip to Venice, Italy.  Thanks to a night of ‘wine, women, and song’, I had spent the wee hours of the morning trying to sleep on the steps of the Santa Lucia Train Station.  VEsl_s_533x188

About  6:00am I gave up getting any rest and, with weekend backpack and guitar case over my shoulders, I went wondering around the empty streets of Venice to see and hear the real city.

As I passed one alley, the aroma of  fresh baked bread was wafting its way into the world.  I walked down to an open doorway and I saw a baker removing bread from the oven. bread

The aroma was an aria; and when the baker noticed me standing there, he recognized a true ‘fresh from the oven bread’ enthusiast.  Of course, having not eaten in the last eight hours also helped my appreciation look.  The baker said good morning and I responded.

I looked at my watch, wondering what time the bakery opened.  Seeing my disappointment, the baker handed me a loaf of the fresh baked bread.  I took some Lire out of my pocket to pay for the loaf.  However, the baker said they were not open… enjoy.  Dazed thank you.  I figured with my Army haircut and guitar case I looked like a jazz musician who just finished a nightly gig…vice the traveling hippie currently commandeered by the military.

I continued my walk along the narrow streets, soon to be noisy with tourist, munching away.  Yes, the bread was delicious!

Think about your ‘building blocks’; we can not write without them.

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3 thoughts on “Building Blocks (memory sensuous)

  1. Wonderful story. I missed the highs of the hippie era by a few years, stood watching/reveling and wanted to be part of it, but was too young. When I turned 16, my yearning to be like them almost was the trigger for my demise, but here I am at 61, buying 2 hippie dresses at a flea market that I’ll probably never wear. These are some of my building blocks.

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