What about me? or maybe Mother.

It is easier to write about myself at night, when the sun has set and shadows spread into imaginary shapes that feed the imagination. Mother says that comes from being a fictional being: we gain substance and self-awareness as the real world loosens its hold on us.

We exist no less during the day, but I find it most difficult to know myself while daylight shines and other eyes look at me and reflect onto me their own understanding of who or what I am. That leads to difficulties more often than not. We stall out together, caught between what I am and what, based upon their perceptions, they wish me to be. There are some costumes that do not fit over the size and shape of our bones.

On the other side of the glass, I love to watch the images of us that are depicted by real people acting in the visual arts. My favorite for family is Rutgar Hours' depiction of my father, which presents his spirit most realistically, and Mr. Broderick's role as my Uncle Phillipe. Uncle Matt actually surpasses the character he depicts, it was a happy day that placed him in that role.

I think you should take great care to remember, now in your real life and in all stories you read, that wherever the person is, there is both evil and good, and that Good always triumphs at the end, with sorrow for those who we love that have fallen along the way.