We explored old downtown Charleston on foot today, and soon after beginning our exploration we chanced upon the occasional King Street Fair.
People, people watching people, music, food, dancing, and just a good old fun time for all stretching many blocks. Anne found an enchanted passageway that leads from all this life, to a very quiet and contemplative path that opens to this garden of memories.
We encountered others serenely wandering among the monuments, all of us enchanted by a power of Place. I paused to contemplate a flower exploding in brilliant blue in front of a name long forgotten and now erased from stone.
Emerging back into the lively street a young girl strutted happily in her oversized new shoes for an adoring father in the eternal rush of generations.
On a side alley leading toward the bay we stopped to look at the oldest surviving building in Charleston.
Across the street is an old fire station next to the slave market. There’s a depth to the story here that goes completely beyond words and pictures.
Walking out onto the new pier more music and life lifted us into a playful delight as we watched a wide spectrum of people enjoying the swing chairs under the long open roof.
Each swing entertained a constant rotation of couples, and families of all ages and races. Even a quiet couple who had flown in on a big adventure from California the night before. Walking back to explore a few more streets I took a moment to enjoy this choir of chimneys.
My last pic of the day was on this treed street where ancient branches harbor the stories of all who have passed here.
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