Remember that dream I told you about? The one in which I’m shot to death in my grandparents’ house by a man dressed like Zorro (the same house in whose attic my aunt took her life several months later)?
Well, I noticed that since I fell on my face on the sharp edge of the escalator steps last week, the bruise covering my right eye has been taking on a mask-like effect. I was trying to figure out whom or what it made me most resemble–a crocodile? A tortoise? The Green Hornet? The Lone Ranger? (When I was a kid, I thought his name was “the Long Ranger,” since his beat was the western plains.)