Sometimes the only thing to do is play in the sunshine. Sometimes the burn is worth the warmth. Sometimes we must gorge ourselves on curried pleasure and drink the sweet fermented lemonade of endless summer, because doing any less would be an insult to the universe. Some days are so perfect that the only thing you can do is stroll through them, and look. And if someone doesn't get it, just give them a glass of lemonade.
Posted by Sir Cucumber at 8:41 AM on Monday, April 27, 2009