The magic bus, fields and collections.
We all look for that trip, a journey that starts with a ticket and ends with a wondrous lifelong memory.
We do.
A field begs for a white and blue tablecloth upon which to spread the tastiest of picnics.
We all collect something, Some things.
Perhaps saying “we all do” is true.
Some things exist for some and not yet for others.
And then, soon, good will come to all if we can arrange it.