This is a story of a table on the beach, a table at
Zamas.

There was a bottle of wine between us...

... and a candle.

And we looked out on to the beach, an ebb and a flow.

This is a story of four feet in the sand, little toes making little divots, leaving little tracks.

And we sat and we laughed and we ate...

... and we watched the sun go down on our last night in Tulum.
1 comment:
And now no matter where you try and eat whatever it is you had that night it will never taste as good. I can't eat pad thai anymore because it makes me think of eating on the beach at night.
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