A memory: Dolores Park.

A memory: Dolores Park.

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, so it was busy with people picnicking all over the grass. Among the crowd were steampunk cosplayers, a guy in a confusing children’s-Saturday-morning-TV-character-looking purple body suit, two pairs of hipster-yogis acroyoga-fighting, and home bakers walking around selling special pastries and lollipops. While there, my friend, Georgie, and I wanted to get our Tarot cards read by this pregnant gypsy, but she walked away before we could beckon her near. After trying to communicate telepathically, first with her, and then with her unborn child, to no avail, we came to the conclusion that she was a fraud and wouldn’t have been able to accurately divine our destinies anyway.

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