Richard arrived safely in Seattle two nights ago. I’m silent and isolated; I work, I write, I go to the gym, and I walk Hazel. My days are like a tableau, both dreamy and intense. Dreamy in that I seem to float above everything. Intense because when something catches my attention, I feel it with all of my senses. Yesterday I saw a dying dog. He was starving – I could see all of his ribs. Both of his back legs were crippled and useless. He was trying to move, maybe to get comfortable, and could only shuffle around in circles. People kept walking past this pathetic, dying creature and although some of them glanced at him, nobody slowed their step. And then the dog looked at me with these big, pained eyes and I lost it. I thought about feeding him – Richard thinks I should have - but I didn’t because he seemed only hours away from death. I’ve been crying on and off since I saw him. Hazel and I went on a fruitless search for him this morning. In the end I’m no different than the people who didn’t slow down, because we all did nothing.