August 3. The click-e-ti-click of a skateboard’s wheels on the sidewalk that runs through the Carlsbad restaurant where we’re having lunch. Driving back through the mansion hills of La Jolla. The houses look imposing and futuristic, and I can’t imagine that they contain life. Can anyone imagine that this hotel room, the oceanfront balcony on the third floor, so close to the boardwalk that you can hear the footsteps of anyone walking by – that this hotel room contains life? If so, what does it consist of? J. practiced the violin for an hour while I slept next to her on the bed. I am very tired and think only in slow motion.