A twilight scene A little girl wearing a dark turquoise dress stood at the edge of the pool. In her hand she held a small bottle from which she slowly drew forth parade after parade of bubbles of different sizes. Each one seemed to be a separate dream, a transient, transparent miniscule world - and we both watched, endlessly enthralled, as they floated into the warm melting evening. Inevitably, these perfect spheres, formed of nothing but a thin membrane of water, held together by surface tension, drifted downwards to the surface of the pool. And at the touch of that surface, as if in some recognition of the source of their being, they dissolved back into nothing. We might have been the same person, that little girl and I, for all the cares of the world shut out, shrunken to fit individual bubbles, nothing but shapes, memory turned graphic, abstract, fascinating - fragile. Eventually the bottle ran out, the spell broke, and we left. Me to my work, the little girl to... what? Growing up?  ¶ 11:06 PM