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and michael is crying because he didnt know his sister until she died. lisa drank her vodka because the piano was too loud, her husband is irritated. he smiles. they have a baby. i'm wearing a dress. florence ciampa says i am attractive, we listen to her stories of her late husband. 68 years. he's dead, she's almost ninety and we'd never know it cos she gets that skin from her mother. her eyes are brown and blue. she's holding these conversations so strangely, so surely and scattered as if presenting her own eulogy for us, just incase she doesnt make it home tonight. we should know she owned the knitting factory and woke at 5:30 am every morning, and still had four pots on the burners by dinner. "anthony was not a handsome man, but what a gentleman." patti smith says she would love to teach me to play piano. she is making a book for me. mary tries to get me drunk. she is too tall.