A crush of bedraggled humanity greeting me with rictus smiles at my yearly pilgrimage. Thousands of screaming children and countless infuriating cabbage-head vehicles raised my blood-pressure by an order of magnitude for years at a time. Just go home, no one wants you here. And no one will remember. Everyone glued to the backside of their little plastic rectangles, viewing the world through a lens, rather than experiencing the present presence. The magic faded a little more this year. The same as the bleached memories inside my head.
12:23 p.m. - 2016-11-21
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