“If I tell you that, it defeats the purpose of self-help,” she said, rather sternly.
There was more: a dusty, hot place where we lined up for a few drops of water from the only spigot in town. A man who claimed he saw America walk down the street, tattered and insane.
Maybe what I needed was a book on dream interpretation. I strolled down aisles between books stacked to the clouds.
The search went on forever. I didn’t dare ask for help.