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March 12, 2012
Something fashioned me as wonderful warm sunny day, starting out with prayer. I am not sure—so many things to write! Spring break is over. I nearly congratulated the woman on here whom this concerns.

(He's staring at the phone: oh my brother.)

The funny thing about the Church: all I can think about is moving to Paris. Do we end up talking and writing? It's been five days and I miss him. 

(She remembers walking down the street with Sinatra. I wonder if speaking of the muse can bring her back.)

I'm caught up. I admit: I am a perfectionist.