I attended a friend’s birthday dinner last night in Central Park, at Sheep Meadow Cafe.
I think I drank too much.
At one point, head spinning, I went off in search of fireflies. I found a few in a dark field. Watching them, I realized for the first time that they don’t flicker on and off but dive, again and again, into something dark. We see them as they surface, turn, and dive again.
A man signs a shovel and so he digs.
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