You go to a secondhand book shop. You buy a book.
You take it home.
As you read it, an old photo falls out. It is a holiday snapshot of a beautiful woman at a beach.
You look at it, at her, at the surroundings.
You look through the book to see if there is any indication of who the previous owner was.
Was it her? (the woman in the photo) or, perhaps, it belonged to the photographer.
But, no, the book is without any trace of prior ownership.
There’s not even in a solitarily set of penciled-in initials.
So, you have a mystery on your hands. You look at the photo again.
You like the woman’s smile and her olden day swimsuit which simultaneously hides and accentuates
the beauty of her body. You don’t recognize the beach, but its waters are calm. The cloudless sky is blue
and the sun is shining.
The photo makes you feel happy, sad, and nostalgic. It makes you think. It inspires you to write.
The phone rings.