So as a quick homage to my wonderful group who seized on every bizarre exercise I gave them and flew with it, here's an acrostic of magic moments:
S arah's ode, evoking varied voices and sharing and laughter, summed up our 'writer's lab'.
K ala! each day as Vasso's feasts appear on the fig-tree terrace.
Y oga early, beach-bunnying all afternoon, trailing up cobbled steps at dusk, strolling late downtown
R ooftop bar under the stars, where we linger to make each day three times longer than the night.
O nly this of me.... Rupert Brooke's memento mori, his monument a watchtower for full moon and solstice dawn,
S oiree on the last night: all that jazz of living: drama and poetry, soliloquies and songs... 'Nkosi Sikelel iAfrika'
C elebratiing creativity, and commitment, with passion and compassion,
E njoyment our essential way. not losing sight of shadows in the sun
N othing is forever, true, but 'now' is all we have,
T rusting is our difficult necessity; like Auden said, we love or die.
R eaching the edge is scary, and then when pushed we fly.
E nding as we began, alone. And if we are lucky, beloved.

Laughter is what I will remember, like the sun and the cidadas and those ever-unnameable blues of the sea and the sky.
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