Monochrome enigmas scythed back into Sarasota’s dome. Observers note subtle changes. Forked tails seem longer, trailing wisps of discarded timelines. Circular patches of lawn turn plaid, pressure plummets inside sedans, boiled shoe leathers city-wide. Kites themselves ignore the chaos, wheeling grace, occasionally dropping origamis fashioned from fish scales onto idle patios. Their return hasn’t heralded spring; it has perforated the veil of mundane. Adjust accordingly.