I walked out of The Esquire, still shocked from the experience of Jesus Camp and in a pretty good mood to appreciate a few hours in Sitwell's. Seeing a scarred, bearded man in a rippling black overcoat warmed my heart, because his fingers were painting a trembling solo on his acoustic guitar. Cold be damned, this was worth staying outside. I sat
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I'm not sure how to fit her doctor aspirations into your beautiful dream, but we'll work that out later. just as soon as we figure out how to deal with rent, our parents, and reality.
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