no-boys-allowed tribe of gypsy faerys with kaleidoscopic eyes, acid-washed souls, and feathers in their hair… who pick mushrooms by the moon and look for crystals under the desert sun. smeared with mica, henna, and body paint. popping pills, howling at the big glitter in the sky, and spinning under psychedelic stars. riding unicorns at the bottom of the ocean and smoking blunts on mars. we wear ceremonial animal costumes, worship the universe and the goddess inside while dancing and chanting around a roaring fire, drink soma and touch the face of god, run with wild horses, climb mountains covered with flowers, and take baths in tea. everything we do smells like incense and is covered in glitter and flecks of marijuana. we rise early and sing to the rising sun. we meditate in space. we do peyote with coyotes under the stars and blow bubbles with martians. the world is our peach and the juices are running down our faces and making us sticky with cosmic delight.