Each day this week I have been convinced it was some other day. Today is Friday but I haven’t any idea if it actually feels like a Friday.

Today is the Battle of Flowers in San Antonio and I am nostalgic for Mexican food, mariachis, cascarónes, flower tiaras and the cadence of Latino speakers. In the theme of being a vagabond, it is somewhat odd to realize that I feel nostalgia for a heritage so clearly not my own. I remember once in high school being told to ‘blend in’, but I was the only white girl in the room. Even if I blend in more here in Scotland, Texan Latino culture was the context for much of my childhood. I hope I can rightly claim nostalgia for the riot of color and taste and sound, spinning in the skirts of flamenco dancers and fluttering with confetti on a hot sunny day.

This week has been full of Bartleby moments—‘I prefer not to’. Partly because I am nursing some allergies/cold/sinus-like thing, because the weather has been variable, because the week itself has been variable, and because I am being coaxed back into the realm of Orion. This time, I may or may not be writing things down…

Luke glanced up at the clock and went to buy his ticket. A woman sat on the bench next to the machine, her gaze fixed on the edge of the platform. She sat slightly hunched forward with her hands clasped on a rumpled skirt. A small duffel bag sat between her feet. She didn’t have a coat. He recognized her, though not at first. She was supposed to be in Germany.

“Annie?” he asked.