Ninety, fragile in so many ways. Yet girlish, naive and particular. Particularity of place, of time, of ways. Filling it with dreams made real; all to be washed away when night rises. Center Everything leaps out from the center. Tiny leaps of a centipede. Great leaps of a gazelle. The steady leaps of you and I, intent upon finding ourselves knowing that the leap into Being is the same Being as before the leap.