“Talk to the hand, asshole. I’m not listening.” Then she stormed off and I didn’t see her again the rest of the day.Shit! Just when I thought ... might have a handle on my life. I hate this fucking school. I should just kill myself. Why do I have all this drama? I’m an artist, not an actor, Jim.I went back to my dorm room and cut Art Orientation. I stripped, crawled in bed, and pulled the covers over my head, determined not to come out until they closed the dorms for the summer.Of course, I. She enters the square and sets down the bag, then opens the blanket and lays it out on the sand.The woman watches as the ghostly figure rustles in a bag and moves to one of the circles of rocks. She sees a flame spark and tinder catch. Each corner is lit in turn, casting a dancing orange light on the scene. The figure kneels at the blanket edge, facing out into the garden. She pulls the bag closer and takes out a dark terracotta bowl, placing it to her left. She lifts out a bottle and pours. More

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