19 December, 2003

I think that Pat must be the Buddah. Arriving late to rehearsal, flustered, apologetic, in need of a shave and smelling of onions, he still manages to be serene and soothing. He touches my bare toes, surprised that they are warm. On my other side, Luke jangles, but claims nothing is bothering him. I curl up next to an already napping Hawk for a few brief hours after rehearsal. I know he is relieved to be leaving, which hurts. Now I seek distraction and comfort, and will find it wherever I look.

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