I went inside a very old Chinese temple. I thought it was ancient. Beautiful old scrolls were across the wall and plants--ivy--and art and an Oriental girl walked silently. Silence. Holy silence filled the air. I thought I would talk to her to find things out. She was standing in front of a book. I thought it was full of ancient, age-old Chinese knowledge, and she could translate for me and tell me about the art. But when I got closer I saw that it was a Catholic prayer book. It started with "Hail Mary," and she said it would cost me $10 for her to explain it. I didn't care a flip about Catholics, but I didn't want to look cheap, so I told her I didn't have money with me, so I'd just look around. She went into the kitchen to talk with her mother, who was making soup. I started looking around at the Chinese art that was thousands of years older than any Catholic stuff. I knocked a mop over and it caught fire and the mop landed on a scroll and I picked up the mop to beat the fire out and hit it against the carpet which was a very, very old Oriental rug. It caught fire too. Finally I got them both put out, the mop fire and carpet. There were big mop-size burn marks on the scrolls above my head. I was trying to make them go away when the plants got in my way and started breaking off when I touched them. The front of the temple had been clean, sparse and holy. There was a little front room to the temple. It was a little closed-in front porch. Me and the Chinese boy went to have a picnic on the floor of the front room. A little dog was tied to the chair. The couches and chairs were covered with old cloth and rags. Very dirty. The floor was covered with old clothes, walked upon for many years. The place was very dirty. You walked back through the door and it was the holy temple. You walked out the other door and it was dangerous traffic flying by that would hit the screen door if you opened it too wide. I went to look for Paula in her church. She wasn't there so I laid down on the floor to take a nap. I went to peaceful sleep. I woke up and saw art on the walls. A guys work I didn't think was any good titled "Christmas on Halloween." It was paintings of motorcycles in the sun. Harvey's work is between 2, and his paintings on the left, 4 on the right. I said, "I used to sleep in an empty room this size when nobody was here." We were out in a park like a farm. An overweight army guy who liked to ride motorcycles was trying to find his future wife. He tried to dance with Christine but the chemistry was not there. She brought him to me and I thought, "He wanted to marry her, now 5 minutes later he wants to marry me. He just wants to marry somebody. Anybody will do and I am not anybody." I went down the hill and he followed me and asked me to go on a motorcycle trip to Texas with him. He said you had to dig holes in the ground to get drinking water. I said, "Why don't you just go to peoples' houses and knock on the door and ask if you can use their hose pipe. He said, "Camping is not like that." I said, "Well that's what I'd do if I was thirsty." I went to take another nap, but Harvey came to wake me up with a question. There were more questions. A kind of question game had started up at the counter at the diner. They wanted me to play but I didn't. I had 6 notebooks of Dora's to sort through. Lots of papers and writing and psychology papers. Even the cloth belt stuck in the notebook was precious. I didn't want to throw anything away. I wanted to save every piece of paper from her studies. I unfolded everything. I opened a folded newspaper, thinking it was a psychology article, but it was a whole page, a drawing with thick strong lines of a little girl ballerina--drop out white on dark, dark gray.