It’s Monday, and most of the restaurants are closed. Iris and I drove into town and found a place to park - something that is hard to do during busier times.
We were directed to the bar to wait for a table. There, we ran into Julia Knobloch, a woman who is in Iri’s poetry workshop. We had a wonderful conversation while we waited for a table.
We sat under a small roof on the edge of a courtyard. The roof protected us from the strong winds that were twirling the umbrellas in the courtyard.
The errant red light on my camera started a conversation with the people at the next table.
The woman turned out to be Dolores Hawkins.
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