The children blowing kisses in the Cafe on Carl St.
They hid and laughed and danced and bumoed into things. The couple that kissed eachother so gently if you blinked you would miss it. The Zumba instructor who danced, and gave everyone else the energy to keep dancing. Including me. The women who danced together and whooped and shouted when their hips were swinging and their bodies moving, who sweated and listened to pop music and who moved and didn't care when they pranced around a sudio like Reindeers before having to leave to go out into the 'real world'. The people at the desk who answered the question. The two people who run the antique store who pulled out boxes of postcards with pictures all around America, and helped me find things and talked about art. The man in the laundrette who explained the machine. The cashier at whole-foods, who thought seemingly tired was patient. The man who handed me a basket. The smile, oh that smile was so sweet, a thousand hello's did dances on it. The rain. Who for the love of the ground kept pouring.