I have started writing on the walls of my house. Because the pipe burst over Christmas and the wallpaper had to be stripped, I thought it might be time to experiment on the walls. The contractor is mostly finished preping to paint, and now I've put him off so that I can play for a week. Here's a couple of pictures from the hallway going up to the attic. I just know he's going to hate me when he sees what I've done. I just couldn't help myself. The plaster that he's put down and partially sanded is so smooth, it's lovely to write on it. I haven't used charcoal in ages. It was Irving's poem from our book, And Beyond Laughter, that I wrote on the wall. Then I put up blurry pictures form my mother's photo box of her and Peter, and me, blurry too, in my pink tutu and my green skating outfit. Maine, Monterrey, Houston. Now, here, Syraucuse. The span of time. It's accelerating.