This is the only true cactus on my walk. It’s next to the dumpster, but on a neighboring property, as if the owner of that property wanted to effect a Mexican transition. The spider webs are a nice touch. I’m sure it looks very different earlier in the day. Next to it is a long collection of colorful, but uninteresting, plants bordering the sidewalk. It’s on the side I normally avoid. I’d much rather linger and decode or translate the garden attached to the Yoga Center, which seems different, perhaps enlightened from day to day. But for variety’s sake I forced myself to the other side, to the grimy, the pointed, the dangerous. And one thing led to another. I dreamed my way to the top of the hill, focusing on imaginary things, unreal things. Amusing myself. Telling myself stories. Remembering things that never took place. Breathing deeply. And feeling somehow happy. Happiness is a completely wonderful protective force.