This weekend I planned no plans, but lived more fully than most planned weekends. I went to an outdoor concert and watched a woman do interpretive dance the entire time, while my friends hula-hooped. I slept by the sound and heard the bells at night. I visited a friend's new boat, and boat tenants. I ate breakfasts fit for kings or farmers. I smelled gardens in bloom and fruit. I sat enraptured in conversation until the wee hours of the morning. I felt joy and lived well. What did you do this weekend, O Reader?
I dreamed a strange dream twice in one night: once ended in the state of California (which had seceded from the United States, or the rest of the US had fallen into the sea), once behind a pile of garbage. No California jokes, now. It's overrated, yes; I've been hearing that for years. Does that diminish my desire to soak it in? You tell me, Reader. Does it for you?
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