The Scamp

A roof over your head.

The scamp walks to the things that call his name, the sights and sounds and scents that have his number. He finds an easy way about the world through sand and snow he knows no worry and holds no creed except not to hurry.

Once — did you know? — I was out-scamped!  What’s that? He went by the name of Bobo and he carried nothing more than a magnifying glass. All he needed was a piece of bark from a cabbage palm and the sun and he made his living. I watched as he angled a red hot sun beam into the bark creating little pictures of palm trees and water. He could burn writing too so to personalize each piece and sell them to the sightseers.

I thought I was a scamp. I walked overland across the country with a knapsack and lived on bread and cheese and wine. But I was out-scamped by Bobo and his magnifying glass.

Sun-cured and blued-eyed, a smoker in a straw hat there to see the water and feel the sea breeze, at the head of the class.

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