It has been a marathon. Emily is speaking in tongues, gesticulating on the
floor after having worn herself plum out with all of those CAPITAL LETTERS
today, behind which lies a lot of heart and a generous dollop of pure, human
feeling. She is near done in. Share has opened her archives of private
correspondence in a last ditch effort to demonstrate the purity of her heart
and intention. Judy is not quite buying it. Doc is relaxing back with a
soothing drink and taking it all in as just another interesting manifestation
of the human condition. Barry sits poised ready to churn out his usual morning
fare, commenting on the darker aspects of what this all means. Buck waxes forth
on unrelated subjects that continue to pop up rather humorously between
diatribes - like radishes suddenly appearing on a New York sidewalk. Curtis is
not sure whether to keep unraveling the meaning of a song nearly a century old
or to proudly assert his good and upright intentions. Raunchy simply waits for
the perfect moment to add a little cayenne and tincture of iodine. Ravi,
between smokes where he appears languid and unworried, has a stiletto hidden in
his pant leg. And Robin, where is Robin in all this? Perhaps well past what is
happening in the here and now and preparing for the new day like the little
fish looking up from the depths of the ocean at the crashing waves above.
