Dreadlock models wanted by the hair salon at First and Commercial in El Mercato.

Yesterday there was rain. Thrumming fat drops that sliced through the sunshine and soaked me as thoroughly as a shower. It was delightful and I held my head up to see. The light was ethereal, sunshine rainbows shattering up from the pavement, it was that hard. It came from a little bit of nowhere and left just the same. Twenty minutes of glory. I wanted there to be someone with me so I could take pictures. It was like the world had turned up the saturation.

Cross processing the streets ahead of time.

Vancouver as been keeping me busy lately, a nice change I approve of. Today there’s two fancy dress events, Meghan’s birthday croquet in a Rose Garden and a rather darker themed High Tea. The disphoria between the two vastly different social circles will be a welcome exercise in mercurial adaptation, something I’ve been missing lately. I have a habit of forgetting to contact other people when I’ve fallen in with a particular social group, but I’m beginning to successfully tear myself out of that cocoon a little. Last night I was handed a furtive slip of paper, BY INVITATION ONLY, twice.