"I don't know why we are here, but I'm pretty sure that it is not in order to enjoy ourselves." Ludwig Wittgenstein

Wednesday, November 25, 2009


Had Richard been seeing a therapist? Lola wondered. She loved Richard, and she knew he was intelligent, but he was also so up-beat and optimistic and well, Pollyanna-ish. He didn’t seem the “type” to be in therapy. On the other hand, maybe she was underestimating Richard’s complexity---she detected that he had a deeper, maybe even darker, side? Just because he was good looking, didn’t necessarily mean he had to be a vacuous “airhead,” like all the other Hollywood pretty boys Lola met at her auditions.

As Lola pondered Richard’s hidden complexity, his hidden mystery, she absentmindedly unbuttoned the top button on her blouse, and slowly worked the pearlized white button between her left hand’s thumb and slender forefinger, as if the shiny white button were a well-worn bead in an imaginary rosary.

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