Some mornings I wake up from this dream about a friend I haven't seen in 20-odd years, and my chest feels hollowed out with longing for him, for that connection. It feels deliciously right and disappointingly sad at the same time. It's a mystery.
Here we are, back at the Fair, with the butter sculpture. This time I caught the sculptor and the model in action. J. says this one looks like she's picking her nose--"Here, you got some noogie on your nose, let me get that."