bright colors

He was tired. So tired that he could barely keep his eyes open, and he kept nodding forward, forehead thunking a little against the glass of the window, which would wake him back up again. Everything was so bright. It was bright, and colorful, and exciting, and there were people everywhere, all in different costumes. He wanted to stay awake to see it all, to be part of the special day. He tried to peer farther down the street, where that river of color and lights was headed, but there didn't seem to be an end. It was like everyone in the city had come out to walk in a fluid mass, all in celebration.

Songs were rising and falling, snatches of them heard all over. They'd pass through the crowds, through the walkers, through the spectators, some in languages he'd never even heard before. But it was all amazing, so exciting. His mama and papa said that everything was getting better. That the whole world was getting medicine, and it was the spiritual kind. He didn't really understand so much, but he liked the colors and the lights.