The ides of March (Idus Martiae).
Dark clouds came and went and came and went like curtains opening and closing over the life of a great king. Like hands in a game of peek-a-boo. Like a nightlight with an unsure sensor.
Was the day winter or spring or grey or sunny? Sunny when we left for the beach and grey when we got there. Still when we made the turn into the parking lot and windy when we walked. Today we lived in the ambiguity of spring and suffered (as much as Californians can) in the humor of nature.
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