It's turning out to be a bad day, a day when the sun feels like teeth.

When does a fake Mohawk become a real Mohawk? Who decides? How do you know if it's happened?

I can't tell if she's actually real, or if she's stopped caring if she's real or not. Or is not caring what makes a person real?

I'm always happy," Sasha said. "Sometimes I just forget.

It's finished. Everything went past, without me.

Technology makes everyone feel old. A laptop is old after two years. Someone always has something newer. Everyone seems to feel obsolete now, even the young.

I wonder what Proust would have made of our present-day locus of collective fantasy, the Internet. I’m guessing he would have seized on its wistful aspect, pointing out gently and with wry humor that much of what beguiles us is the act of reaching for what isn’t there.