It all started six months ago, in the dead of winter when a little "save the date" postcard arrived in her mailbox. It was for that time of the season... summer, which meant reunions- family reunions, club reunions, college picnics. And now her friendly postman put an innocent little postcard that was more dreadful than the envelopes of bills...her high school reunion. She remembered laughing with her work mates about going back to the States for this rite of "real" adulthood passage. A ritual. I mean you move great but every now and then you would stand still and..."She looked at me as if she was trying to reach something inside me."You would stand on the mat not moving except for, like, this little shake you did occasionally. But it's not a physical loosening. It was as if you were trying to bounce doubt off you. I could feel my hands molding the clay to capture the way the muscles on your neck looked when you did that half-motion shake of your head." God, if I had you posing I. More

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