She spoke to me of stones and oil and a mountainous isle over faraway seas. Her touch was Burmese lava rock: smooth, hot and oiled; her eyes a jungle green. Or maybe blue, or possibly brown or yellowish, perhaps grey. Not sure on the eye thing.

In any case, her hands held hope and healing. A foolish hope on my part, one may certainly say, but it was Disneyland, where dreams come true at ballpark prices.

Back from Disney World and a three day cruise on the Wonder. Its signature whistle-blast on leaving or entering port is the first seven notes of the theme from The Wonderful World of Disney, which is pretty cool. As a child, those notes were the clarion-call to my religion – watching that show on Sunday night.

A long strange trip, that week inside Disney as a jaded and rather literary non-parent. Turns out real illusion is not quite as good as fake illusion, at least for me. Still, it was a grand holiday. Other than that one thing, maybe.

Home,

LWIII