I fell into a trance the other day, driving, and imagined my other (real?) (true?) life. I was living in a dry, hot place, with swept pine floors, the color of dark amber. On the mantel were shards - of glass, of clay; the shards of glass reflecting colors to the ceiling. The walls were hung with memento mori......of whom I don't know, children and old ladies. The curtains were woven of cobwebs and black bombazine. I wore my long hair up in a pile held together with barkless twigs. Outside the dusty windows was my garden. I grew only tumbleweeds.