Earlier today, while driving through the barrio he saw a delightful spectacle. The aromas of various taquerias found their way through the gaping holes of the sunroof and windows, while the steady rhythms of accordions made light of the moment.
All the while, the Shameless one's Purely Francais Cd played. It had accordions, but not the Spanish language. It had French. Most French people speak French.
"I wonder what makes an accordion Mexican? What makes one French?," Shameless thought.
A mini van without regard for traffic courtesy, and perhaps life, cuts across the road, disrupting any further inquisition. No matter.
A spring break without a break is sprung. Yeah. That's about right. However, that's not something to complain about. Inside the coffee house were a few people, a few fans and one Vagabond. His work progressed almost as slowly as he sipped the freshly made Ethiopian coffee. Which is quite slow. Because it was hot.
So into his work, so focused. He spies himself in the silver coffee container. 12 oz. of Joe. 196 lbs. of Shameless. As he looked up from himself he sees that all of the chairs were set upon the tables. The cafe had closed 5 minutes ago.
Zipping through the expressway, he made his way, to another cafe, while sipping coffay. And again, what a nice day it was. No music coming through the sunroof and windows now, just the whipping winds.
Finally. He smiles. "This life is a gift."
He arrives at the cafe and sets up his computer. The sun still gently baking the earth, while the crowds chatter. A customer plays sweet melodies, while his friends listen in. Soon Shameless returns with his guitar.