August evening. Blue, dry, wood smoking, cigar smoking. Hot air balloons drift overhead, like a TV show. Can’t connect without video. Lovely woman, casual chat. Blue darkens and Blind Faith sings Can’t Find My Way Home. Great choice my soul brother. Cause I’m wasted and I can’t find my way home. Been there, miss that. The crickets are blasting. Seems like eternity since I last listened. Where are my friends passing the joint and popping the beers? Where is Kenny and his 8-track vibrating Dark Side Of The Moon as we cruise, Perhachs to Colonial Park, laying in a field as UFOs circle around us? What has become of living in the moment, one with the music? I light another cigar as the fire dances back to life, and Radiohead sings Everything In Its Right Place. Stars appear.