While visiting a marketplace on a basketball court near some quiet apartment buildings, I couldn't escape being poked, and the fingers were genitally aimed, though fortunately I was clothed. I punched the pokers in their faces. But the American man was strong, and I could not land my punches with any force, and he grinned and went on to poke again. I must write about this, I thought, and only later - why? Did it have something to do with the way Netta's insistent pause, on Question Me, had amplified the sportscaster's attack, so that he was now a Breakfast resident? And that I did not want to share her tears, whose magnifying properties I fear, suspended as they are in a medial element that can not touch and dissolve "the blinding dust of earth"? After Great Expectations (Chapter 19) I read an interview with Christina Stead saying no, no, as though carving piered vaults in a cliff wall. Yes, I think, exhilarated, I too can think no. So "their hatred of men among all things" - well I've never met a feminist who - Nic calls to say he's accidentally addicted the toddler to the video of Rick James's Superfreak - the lycra, the bounding cleavage - and now he's stuck, gormless, to the couch. "He's all right.” Yeah, all right with me. "We changed again, and yet again, and it was now too late and too far to go back, and I went on.”