A group of women puppeteers come by and give a puppet show. It is fun to watch. There is a story about a little girl who went away from her parents and no one could understand why she wouldn't go back. I watch the show and then in payment, I give them my old children's books which they auction off. Ethan buys them. He asks a bunch of dumb questions about which books he has, "And don't I have two copies of Robinson Caruso?" I think, "Well of course, dummy." I am annoyed at his snotty attitude. They were my books and I feel a tinge of regret giving them up. I look in one book and I see a film where Ethan plays a detective. I laugh and say to Ethan standing next to me, "It's so funny. He was my director and all he can do is that one thing and that not so well, anyway." I pick up a book with a gold lame cloth removable cover, to adjust it. One corner, like a corner on a bottom fitted sheet, has come off. I pull it and a picture of a little girl who moves and talks is on the book. As I pull her, she's moving to the edge of the book. She says something about how nice it would be to go back to her parents, or something. I sit on the bed. It's hard to leave my books. A young boy/man grabs my arm and talks incessantly. I yell and kick my feet like a tantrum and say, "Leave me alone. I don't want to talk to you people any more." Some older man pulls him away and says, "Leave her alone, now."