The sun has set. We’ve wandered along the riverbank and trotted back. It is a quaint street. One of the many, but we gasp about “O! How lovely!” it all is.
The candy shops are magical. Willy Wonka was real. So was the Mad Hatter.
Lights from the wharf glitter on the water now. They’re adamant not to be carried away by the flow of the river.
Chatter in the lamp light. Slapping thighs and necks to massacre bugs. Old friends meeting as tea glows gold by candle-light.
The chill coming down and we rise to leave.
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