"i awoke from a dream about trimming, and trim scenes, and the golden glow of adventure and misogyny. a bunch of women, kept sometimes literally in a tower, working for a man. the good old days. there we worked, day in, day out, cut off from the outside world. testing our patience, our courage, our livers, our minds, until the leaves turned gold and the air grew chilly. we worked and worked until pumpkins came, until it snowed, until we couldn't work another day. then - freedom! giant stacks of cash and freedom to go wherever, to be your own guide. to leave town and never look back; until the next season.
it's fall here now, so the hills have infiltrated my subconscious.
last night we slept with the windows shut. the air is much cooler and the leaves are turning and falling. but fall in this world just isn't as exciting as fall in that other."
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