Me and Corinne were on a back street of Chinatown that doesn't exist. We were trying to roller skate. I had roller skates. Corinne had ice skates There was slush on the ground. Too icy to (roller) skate. Not enough ice for ice skating. Corinne had to carry her skates. A man in a car drove fast toward the puddle of slush. I wouldn't move. I yelled in his open car window, "Where are we suppose to go?"" Corinne said she bet Eileen cleaned her house like crazy before she went on a long trip. There was a gallery. A girl who looked like a dwarf--but almost tall enough to be a very short normal person was an attendant there. Her boss was a man dwarf. Her head was too big and flat on top and her arms and legs were too short for her body. She was saying she was going to cut off her hands and bury them in front of the back door. That she had already dug a grave and she was gonna bury herself a little at a time until she was dead. I started yelling at her. About Dora being killed against her will. And she (the dwarf) was alive and wanted to die and I was going off and angry. After that she was afraid to look at me and I thought I'd probably lose my job at the gallery. But I knew I had to say what I did. The kitty was licking between my legs, but when I looked down, I saw she had put almost a whole lacy full slip in there. I pulled it out. It was all mucus-y. Eileen had a word game for us. Envelopes of stories. The game was about the unconscious--revealing the mysteries of language connected with the unconscious. The game took years to p lay. We had to have very thick notebooks. Sometimes I got tired of writing and I drew pictures to get to the point faster. I could get the action of the movement instantly in a picture and the stories in sealed envelopes--and the games that went with them took a very long time. I went to Chinatown on a break from the language game. I was looking at vegetables. A Spanish lady asked me, in Spanish, the ingredients of a cookie. I didn't know much Spanish, but enough to tell her, "Mantequilla, azucar, cinnamon." She insisted there was basil in the cookies too. Veronica (Times Square) was dancing across the street in a pink long tu-tu dress with an orange striped tank top on top. She was dancing twinkle-toed and delicate. I watched her. There was elegance about her. I ran past Coach O'Rear's house. A painting of mine had been forwarded to an empty house. The house was empty because the man had been sent away to debtor's prison.