At the Threshold

At the Threshold

While exploring the island of St. John in the U.S. Virgin Islands, I visited the 300-year old ruins of sugar mills. I found one set into a hillside, with the ocean in the distance.  Stumbling down the hill, I came to an arched doorway that was obscured by a dark jumble of vines, foliage, and bright red flowers. Looking through the arch, I was surprised to see a courtyard littered with flower petals and bathed in sunlight.  In contrast to the dark vines and stone of the arch, the rays of the sun shone on a waiting table. Flower petals glowed with reflected sun beams.  Surrounded by the ruins of the past, I felt like I was at the threshold of something new.


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