Freedom within any kind of social structure - the whole issue of exactly what the human animal is - is an ongoing preoccupation of mine. And I certainly don't think I've come to the end of that exploration, and with any luck, I never will. But I'm very curious about exactly what kind of beast we are. We're so complicated.

Just as a snowflakewent on to feed a puddle that filled a stream and then the river, thepumpkin patch is a gathering of molecules from my old goats, chickens,and cats, feeding the underworld of dirt creatures. And somewhere, myfather's ashes mingle with birds, air, and sea.

Asked why they wanted to fight, the young women said they enjoyed it, just as some men and boys do.

They thought to use and shame me but I win out by nature, because a true freak cannot be made. A true freak must be born.

It is coincidence, I decide, and I am getting old and batty, thinking the universe revolves around me.

He must love me, i thought, amazed. A faint whiff of nausea hit me at seeing pain as proof of love, but it seemed true. Unavoidable.

We survive until, by sheer stamina, we escape into the dim innocence of our own adulthood and its forgetfulness.