Fake Out

If we assume that the random, middle-aged man I asked for directions to my new ward office last week was just confused when he told me to go in the opposite direction, adding an hour to my journey, then we may pardon him, for it was an honest mistake.

If we assume that said random, middle-aged man who gave me false directions a mere BLOCK from the right ward office was simply having a little fun with foreigners … then we may pardon him all the same, since that long, ambling bike ride to the next ward over was studded with newly blooming cherry blossom trees, blanketing my mistaken way with sprays upon sprays of frosty white boughs. The cherry blossoms are here, my friends, and they are beautiful.

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