There was a wedding at Pendopo Cipete. A picture of a lady whose face is hidden behind a Philodendron plant in a large earthenware pot. It's obscure. Like one of those tabloid pictures. It implies there is something paranormal about it. The only wedding ceremony that took place there recently was Bjorn and Lalita's. I wasn't dressed. I was barefoot. I walked out to the street with a bottle of beer in my hand or it could have been apple cider. My uncle walks toward me, he stops and eyes me. I ignore him, walking on in a daze. Flash forward to a wooded area with my dad. All the trees were covered in moss. Flash forward. I go out of a bathroom and a trio of men in white clothing. One of them a midget. They wait at the side of a doorway waiting to surprise a friend coming out. It's a false alarm. I wasn't surprised, since it wasn't for me. I'm back at Cipete. I sit on the bench next to the guard post. Michael passes by and I grab him, asking him when we would spend time together, if memory serves me well. He replies that we already had breakfast together.
