Francoise Earrings

An afternoon of ten thousand loaves of bread, grassy butter, natural wines the color of bitter orange and Meyer lemon. Lying on a blanket covering the entire garden in silk flowers, wearing matching striped tees like a scene out of Breathless, debating the whole of the universe, whether or not plants can think and be kind. We read our horoscopes and head into town to the disco, dancing like queens, hands clasped on the dance floor, singing full into each others’ faces, shoulders, hair.