Photo: Martin Haro.
The 305 from 46 above, for the very first time Miami, 7.30.21

Miami, Miami.

It struck me, Miami, this last time we visited. The cycle and the churn of the Magic City. And how a small seed can become something big out there. The amount of “Yes” I saw.

It has gotten so international. It now feels like a global duty free. And the humidity is the moistiest it’s ever been.

It’s a little nuts. It vibes very last hurrah, before the flood. South Beach, my old neighborhood, has been decimated by commerce, tons of glass, and loads of white and grey paint.

Blue skies sunshine, white sand by the mile, still. A canvas never more starkly oh-so-blank soon to be awash in salt.

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