Can anything good come from Worthington? Jack is oddly timid approaching the fence and so I enter to check on him. Chrisoula and I work through a budget allowing me to purchase certain of Abhishiktananda's books and I weep a little in thankfulness. Fine rain on the windows making the world seem beautiful and sad and impossibly far away. In a dream we meet at a well - there is a sense Jesus was here yesterday or the day before that - and she tries to explain a complex symbolism which I gently point out is eclipsed by the phenomenon of the astounding - miraculous even - fire she is. On the other hand, it would be great to move past this emphasis on eyewitnesses, wouldn't it? Wounds do heal and even death is not the end. esiidic's legs open, her knees rise and I become evangelical accordingly.
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