  I wish I could feel angry and wronged today, but I think I need to accept my culpability here. I've been thinking a lot about Franz, the sculptor, this morning. I wonder if I drove him away by being to demanding? Instead of forgetting the good and remembering the bad, as is my usual, I've been thinking of the fun we used to have. I feel like people don't have fun anymore, at least I don't have fun anymore. Where is the sense of adventure and fascination that I used to have when I left my front door? 
