My head was spinning, the engine wailed. Buddha—yellow—lilies of the valley—the pink crescent moon . . . Yes, all that plus this—this: O had wanted to stop by today. Should I show her this notice re: I-330? I didn’t know: she wouldn’t believe me (would anyone?), but it wasn’t my fault, I was completely . . . I knew: there’d be a difficult, maddening, entirely logicless conversation . . . Please, no, anything but that! I decided to resolve it mechanically: I would simply send O a copy of the notice.
