The midday sun is shining. The world is warm, all humming with verdure. Everyone has moments: this is one of mine. The world is warm, all rippling with verdure. Everyone has stories: this is one of mine. //

We sat beside the fountain on the grass, in a rough approximation of a circle. E--- sat to my left. Her skirts were spread wide around her, so she seemed to hover centered within a broader sea of herself. Her pale hair glinted lamplike as she laughed at something D--- was saying. F--- was on my right talking - explaining - earnest - overbearing - about - what was is? The price of - ? The nature of - ? But of what? to me, perhaps? or to P---?

But I wasn't listening. The world was so warm. It was so lush. It filled me so full that I didn't have room for anything more specific than impression. We sat there in our circle. We reclined - photosynthesized - dissolved - until finally the bells rang the hour.

"It is time," said the bells. "It is time."

I smiled into the circle like the hand of a clock, like the shadow of a sundial.

"It is time," I said. "Let us begin." //