The darkroom had changed. It was an art and darkroom. New people and new projects were strewn all over the room. They were exposing chemically treated marbles to light. Burning and dodging them--but it was all one even color--neutral shades--but in color--fuzzy and blurred even marbles drying and stacks of paintings on large paper or strips of canvas. A tour group came in but I wanted to go dark and roll my film. I had to wait, so I left to come back. I sat a table with 2 ladies. They were talking about Rose O'Donnel and I got loud. "I hate her, I can't stand Rosie O'Donnel. She's a fake and she's not funny--SHE'S THE MOST ANNOYING PERSON ON EARTH!" The kids didn't know what to say. Corinne came to the door. We left to go to the darkroom. Corinne Christian was there and he was old friends with Colin (Coleen). A guy I knew--but didn't know who he is. Corinne knew. She had come to listen to me play the piano. I got my music. We still weren't dark in the darkroom. A lady was interviewing me for a scholarship. I asked her to repeat the 1st question My brain was wandering. The words were technical and meaningless. In a van I stared at Stephen--he would not look me in the eye. His energy was on the edge of the edge. Scary. Shifty. We rode past the mayor's house. Stephen yelled out the windows. In the darkroom were stacks of embroidery. Ladies had woven bedspreads of all kinds. They were neatly folded. One was white and knobby like lace. My mother had made it. A man in a suit held it--wanted to buy it--exclaiming how beautiful lit was. It was cotton with little fringe.