[There are
plastic Easter eggs everywhere.
Under your pillow, in the toilets, in trees, floating in the onsen, in trails along camp's main pathways, on windowsills, in your pockets -- everywhere, everywhere, everywhere. Some eggs have candy. Some are full of lotion or glue or shampoo. Some explode, shoot glitter, bite, and sing.
But whether or not you care, and whether or not you even know what Easter is, there is a basket in your hand. And, somehow, you know what to do.]
(( For all your "oh god must get away from family" needs! OPEN ALL DAY. Mingle! Mine will be in and out. ))