Mind/Body/Spirit Special

Alice Probst, 53, a severe-looking woman, says to me, "May I come to you?" "Delighted," I say.

She tells me: "You remind me of an animal. A gerbil in a cage. There's too much on your plate, you're running in the wheel. They have cages with tunnels now. There is a way out." Thanks, Alice.

Later, I ask her, was it my scribbling notes in the dark that made her think I was gerbil-like? "No," she says. "Vibrations." Fair enough, Alice. My vibes make me see you as a tree sloth. How's that?

Reverend Nancy is on the steps out back having a smoke, still in her black robe. When a cemetery across the road is commented on for its beauty, she says, in a gravelly voice, "Beautiful, sure. But there's no one there, you know."

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