I come here late at night, trying to piece together the fragments of the day, trying to say something inutterable. It doesn't cohere, it doesn't come together--at least not yet. What is worth writing about: brunch with the other condo owners at our "annual meeting," working on my website, washing the dishes, doing laundry, watching Star Trek? No. Seeing people walking down the street, well dressed, and holding palm fronds? Not really. Perhaps tomorrow will be more memorable.