HERESAY FOUR

Can I offer you a cup of fresh breeze? Tomorrow is going to be a Spare the Air Day, here in the Bay Area.

Sugar?

Things have changed since Blossom Hill withered. I could have offered you a cup of cherry blossom wine, then.

Do I relent, remorse, reveal? Words don't fit reality. Epigrams or epitaphs, pepper or salt, it all comes down to life, in its seasons.

Nonsense is irritating until you sit with it for awhile. Then it disappears.

Will this planet and its humanity get to know each other, get along together? Either way, the universe is ready to take us back.

The Federal Reserve will offer ordinary citizens a two-for-one offer on interest rates, but it will be spurned. Gold and Treasury notes are inedible. Blossom Hill got paved over.

Hocus potus – now you see them, now you don't. They have gone to helicopter heaven to become cherished foot stools.

Greta Thunberg yanked the red carpet out. It's Spare the Earth Day here, every day.

Green tea, and hold the sugar?

OK.