It’s time to step over the metallic residue of yesterday’s party. We’re threading the needle of another year. Strapped in dusty pink and ready to move snowcapped mountains. It’s all mapped out. Bulldozers and healers. The new and the old. Softness and rigidity weaving together. The tapestry is underway. We’re ready. Raging sun. Faux fur and real generosity. Watching the snow fall from the hotel bar. Pleather lit by candle light. Contracts on cocktail napkins. Signed and pleated. The night is already black. The olive dress now dangling from the marble slab.