as we return to the beginning of the circle. O week on repeat as we come to the close. Seeing the same people then now with altered eyes. Theirs and mine I expect. It's hard to track sight on laptop screens, to concentrate on anything other than the freckles beginning to blossom on my back, soft grass between toes, iced Snapple, drums beating out there somewhere, counting seconds with the people who tick the same clock clicks, and the promise of Renn Fayre. RennFayreRennFayreRenFayreRennFayre. This place has licked my little soul clean. I mean it. And I am determined to make the most of my last two weeks, yes, there are McQueen essays to write and short stories to plumb, but to stretch my smile wide, let my newly plumbed heart bloom in the spice that sweetens summer is more important. Maybe the sun has made me delirious. Probably. But there is something gorgeous in seeping up as much lightness before I leave. I mean, not that it could ever leave me. But two weeks until it kisses my hand and waves my body away down the West Coast, Yosemite, Texas, Arizona, New York, Toronto, Reykjavik, on... on... on...I'm procrastinating...
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