Sunday, March 16, 2003

“This is a dream,” he said, languidly reclining on a settee.

“Then it is a good dream,” she softly replied.

By 10 AM tomorrow, I shall have penned my eight- to ten-page magnum opus on love, delusion, and Sino-American relations in David Henry Hwang’s M. Butterfly. I wish you luck with your finals, dear reader, and hope that you will do the same for me.