Monday seemed simultaneously an instant and an age ago. My solstice began with sunrise near one ocean, and peaked watching it set over another. If it were to be the longest day of the year, it was an excellent day to have lengthened with a transcontinental flight: the evening included an utterly delightful date, my first steps in the other ocean 61 hours after the first, and a chance encounter with Morris dancers as we watched the sun drop over the sea. Those experiences were but an ellipsis on a night whose terminal punctuation was an equally magical moment.
Thus begun, the week included days accomplishing the tasks I had been dispatched for, and evenings catching up with old friends and making new ones, til Friday. The confluence of circumstance allowed me the indulgence of the Trans March -- culmination of Pride festivities -- as the lead-in to a weekend that would be just as magical as the way the week had started.