British girls have been serenading (sp?) me all morning. Heavenly and Helen Love and Comet Gain. It makes me wonder if Suki knows my travel plans. Then I realize that no, it is just her lovely shuffle songs mode. I take every corner like a dance floor. I know I tell you that all the time, but this morning, I really did. Lalalala. I am all velvety and pink today. My clothes, not my skin. Happiness surges through me and I realize that I love my walks to work best of all my time alive because it is exercise and feels so good. Blood pumping through my body. I wonder who I am and how I became this lovely girl. Perhaps I am possessed by some happy demon. A good witch or something.

I smile at everyone I pass and they look at me like I am insane because I am pink and they are grey. A woman with very fat ankles does not suffer my foolishness and I want to hug her to tell her she is pretty but could also be more pretty if she smiled. I think about how I love pretty so much than angry now. Pretty. Angry. I think about the words and how they sound the same, but mean the different. Pretty angry. Pretty. Angry. They tick tock in my head like a big old clock. I remember being angry. It makes me smile because it is such a distant memory. Mary Lou Lord coos to me now. She isn't british, but she is lovely and pretty. I never thought I would adore pretty, but I do so with exurberance. I never thought I would think of myself as pretty. But I do and it is like fireworks. Whatever that means.