April 15, 2016:

The maid was in the garden. Scarlet runners. Virginia creepers. Morning after the bazaar dance when May's band played Ponchielli's dance of the hours.

Lovely spot it must be: the garden of the world, big lazy leaves to float about on, cactuses, flowery meads, snaky lianas they call them.

Over after over. Out. Better luck next time.


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