Tuesday, July 22, 1997
Dear Nova,
As you well know, it’s easier to open a clam with a piece of wet spaghetti than to get me to wake up voluntarily any earlier than absolutely necessary. However, the fourth floor of The Bardo is essentially a tropical t*****e chamber, and I often have no choice in the matter. It’s a sauna in my room by sunrise, so when I can’t fall back asleep, I’ve taken to sketching and doodling from my desk in the mornings. It’s the perfect time to write you.
For the most part, I’ve learned my way around The Moirai and found my own sort of understanding with the sisters. They are sharp and funny, good-natured and feisty, nurturing but tough. All three of them, each in their unique ways, remind me of Gram’s sturdy temperament, and I feel at peace in their presence. The
