Of course I didn't sleep. Or I did and dreamt of teaching. But where are the butterflies? I am thinking like a student: first photography class today. Am reading I and Thou for Zali's seminar. It's dark and the crickets still believe it is nighttime, still summer. Zali said: we will talk about why Buber is, perhaps, full of shit. Here we are at Coney Island sipping cokes under the red and white umbrella on Labor Day. What will he say of the Symposium then? Of Bakhtin? --Herman arrived last night and found me still in the office spinning in circles. I gave up at eight-thirty when I lost a manuscript I'd just printed (left it in the bathroom) and could see myself from the air spinning in my box. We came home. Then we stayed up talking. We both needed sleep, but it's like a slumber party around here. My friend sleeping in my house. And Zali and Herman will meet each other today. I mean, you can't imagine. Who can sleep?
There they are.
!
Butterflies.
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