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It’s the breeze from my balcony that puts tropical lanais in my dreams, but no hammock ever had this thread count. Last night’s plan for a morning run has ebbed – the call of the pool is louder, more persuasive. Can I tell myself I did laps, if I pushed no harder than a glide and mostly gazed at the palms and sky? A platter of fruit poolside, and the day has begun with all the virtue it needs.
