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Cloistered

November 18, 2016

Monday, August 1, 2011, 10:37 AM.

 

 

Balboa Island. If I ever win the lottery I will buy a home there and never leave. No car. Everything I need is right there within walking distance.

 

Kitty cornered from Wilma’s Patio at the intersection of Marine Avenue and Park, where in the Fall months they serve the best pumpkin pancakes ever, there is a little family grocery called Hershey's. I can picture myself perusing the aisles during my daily shop in the quaint little store. Afterward I'd walk the two blocks down to Starbuck’s, where I would order my favorite drink; a decaf one pump soy mocha, no whipped cream, no foam. I’d find a seat outside, the faint ocean breeze lapping at the back of my neck. Sipping my coffee slowly, I'd watch the tourists bustle to and fro savoring their frozen bananas on a stick, made with the utmost care at Sugar & Spice just a few doors away. I’d imagine them at the beach, or dinner that evening, wearing the overpriced contents inside the bags they carried from the various merchants that line the streets all the way from the boardwalk to the bridge leading back up the hill to Fashion Island, the upscale mall on Pacific Coast Highway. When my coffee was gone, I'd walk back to my little cottage with a view of the bay, and return to my office, where I would continue writing my best-selling memoir.

 

This is my fantasy.

 

If you could live anywhere, where would it be?

 

(All photos (except the one I'm in!) courtesy of balboaisland.com)

 

 

 

 

 

 

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