We stopped in the Saddlebunch Keys around Mile Marker 13 close to seven in the morning. Not least because I have discovered Cheyenne likes to walk the old bridges. They've been turned into fishing piers and my Labrador likes the smell of left over fish bait in the morning.
The rising sun produces a palette of colors like a painter bored with the usual strokes and suddenly every day it's some new wild psychedelic rainbow in the east. The sun drunk on dawn.
"And gentlemen in the Keys now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here..."
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