An excerpt from a story I am writting...

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I never did like going downtown; hoards of people rushing from here to there, bumping into one another like ants, being controlled by a walk and wait sign, this was not my idea of a good time. I always thought how impersonal this place was; concrete, noise and obnoxious smells. New York is a city that I only need to come to every once in a while. Growing up on a small rural farm in the Midwest with six brothers and one sister, I had longed to be in the big city. I loved it when my father would get the new National Geographic and when it was my turn to look at it, I would go to my secret place in the barn and drift into my dream world looking at the pictures of “far-off” lands; the beautiful cityscapes, the jungles of Africa and the bare breasted women of Borneo and I knew one day I would see these wonderful places, but now, far away from that magical childhood, I am here in this concrete jungle; a place I now despise. I need palm trees, sandy beaches, the smells of Caribbean foods drifting through the air and the oiled tanned bodies of women in their scantly little bikini’s; this runs through my mind everyday….oh how I miss this, how I miss Cordova. Will she still be there?