Buttresses twisted, became braided like ribbons of a May pole. Fluid. Interweaving. Each balcony curved, rounded into a tiara. I could only stare, frozen outside La Playa Hotel.
Crown the Queen of the May. Hail! Hail!
Windows turned opaque jade; walls shifted, reflecting and transforming into foliage stucco. The voices continued.
I ran, stumbled. Away from the surreal hellishness of it all. But how do you escape time?
How do you outrun a day?
The voices followed me, chanting and dragging their blasted flowers.
I don’t want it! Leave me be!
Hail! Hail! The Queen of the May!