But I Knew One More Thing. That

No Matter Where I Was, My Compass Pointed West. I Would Always Know What Time It Was In California.

I Closed My Eyes To Watch Tiny Dancers Like Jeweled Birds Cross The Dark Screen Of My Eyelids.

The Decor Bowled Me Over. Everywhere I Looked, There Was Something More To See. Botanical Prints, A Cross Section Of Pomegranates, A Passionflower Vine And Its Fruit. Stacks Of Thick Books On Art And Design And A Collection Of Glass Paperweights Filled The Coffee Table. It Was Enormously Beautiful, A Sensibility I'd Never Encountered Anywhere, A Relaxed Luxury. I Could Feel My Mother's Contemptuous Gaze Falling On The Cluttered Surfaces, But I Was Tired Of Three White Flowers In A Glass Vase. There Was More To Life Than That.

As An Artist, You Can Never Get What You Want. What You Do Never Approaches What You Want It To Be.

A Womans Mistakes Are Different From A Girls