In my dream I was at Giraffe Manor. This is a special hotel in Nairobi, Kenya, and all around there is the buzz of snakes and flocks of birds flying overhead in dizzying blue skies, circling and circling. Winds sweep through, and winter rains. You can hear the drops on the tents at night, and your sleep is sound and blurry. A roar of a lion wakes you up, and in the early morning pink light the giraffes come. They come to your windows and doors, and you feed them out of your hand, apples and roots. You pet their necks and feel the warm brown and yellow, dappled, already warm from the sun. The day will grow hotter, and the giraffes will lope off. To eat leaves. To the shade. But they will be back again the next day, and the next and the next. And like this I study them in Africa, in my dreams and hopes to someday go there.