Flagstaff + Firefly

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The spirits live. I understand that turquoise packet of American Spirits a little more. Not that I have started smoking. We became entrapped in the spirits. Navajo land. Driving through Monument valley, something happened. My best guess is that the thunder spirits mated with the dust storm over the crazy landscape that makes up and surrounds Monument Valley. We somehow plummeted through the storm in the civic. We plunged in the San Juan en route. Jump in the water. Always.

Amazing dinner at the Meadow, with the amazing folk that inhabit it.

Spontaneity placed us in the Firefly. Through the pine needles into the aridity. No density. No insects. Yet fireflies. Sushi. Somehow. Followed by hail. Golf ball hail all over Flagstaff. When life gives you hail, make a slushy! Get brain freeze.

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