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A place with an endless supply of warm, balmy days. Lemonade glasses so tall and cold, and always full. Toe nail polish that never chipped. Laughter rolling over the mountains, turning every drop of water into a crisp diamond. Running bare-foot through the grass and not having to turn back. A land of sunshine so pure it immediately made your skin golden brown and your hair shiny blonde. Sailboats and fishermen and mermaids swimming alongside dolphins. Shelves stocked with ripe avocados, Colombian coffee and Swiss chocolate. A place where your favorite song, the one your grandmother used to play over and over as she lulled you to sleep, would play on forever, and not on replay. The song would extend forward, continuing into the hills as you danced along at your own pace, just waiting to hear what else the instruments had in store.
The sky looked like eggplant that night. She dreamed. She sent those visions off to the land of supernovas. The place where the Fates sit. The place where the cosmos combine and it all happens.