‘Dear, dear, dear, dear, dear Santa Fe’

When the peacocks honked, I awoke and turned on my side and went back to sleep. I dreamed, off and on, that we were embedding mosaic tiles and brooches and seashells into the wooden stairs of the Santa Fe house in which we are staying. But instead of making good on the beautiful designs of our fancies, we made holes in each stair. Our gift was too generous, our project was too ambitious, and the consequences told against our ideas. Our hostess Kitty wasn’t happy. ‘Those who act defeat their purpose,’ says Laozi. ‘The truth is paradoxical,’ he concludes.

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