I watched the proceedings as if they were a dream. But they were a dream. We rose, along with hundreds of other long-forgotten ephemera, on the back of a gigantic curl. It rushed rapidly down its own surface and spilled onto Venice Boulevard. We sped past the Museum of Jurassic Technology, then the Center for Land Use Interpretation. Unable to navigate the Robertson Boulevard turnoff, we finally came to rest upon an appropriately mellow pond amid the art fields of La Cienaga Boulevard in Culver City.
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