Last night I went with A to the 48-hour film festival. Most of the films were terrible (of course) - but that, I believe, is the essence of these things. It reminded me of the 24-playwriting festival in Winter Prairie. Today we are quiet, which is typical of the weekends, but is always slightly jarring, or whatever the opposite of jarring would be when one is startled not by something, but the uncharacteristic lack of something.
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