trudy ate a bite of banana but wouldn't sit up. asked r. where are you? said she'd get up, then rolled over, rolled over again and sang tomorrow, tomorrow, out of the blue, drifted back to sleep, and we split. on the way home the oligarch's tower seemed unreal, while trudy felt very real. that's how we'll evaluate things for now, by how real or unreal they feel. much of what is posited as real seems very unreal, and we are grateful for real things that feel real, even sad things. i'm glad she sang the song tomorrow.