The little dog and I walk up Gastineau with plans to take a set of crooked stairs to tidewater. We have sunshine today to enjoy a route normally taken on stormy days. Maybe that is why Aki drags it out, stopping to sniff something ever few feet. We pass the derelict hillside house from which the police just removed a partially mummified body. How, I wonder, could human tissue mummify in our wet climate, how long did the process take, more importantly, how in this connected world, could the deceased disappear for some long without someone missing him?


Aki tugs me past the house to an attractive scent. It arises from a clump of crocus flowers still wet from last nights rain. As she lines up to mark them, I realize that for the first time, we are both attracted to the same thing. The scent that seduces her arises from the golden flowers that I want to photograph.


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