She leaps into the alien heart of the pa**erby, the drunk, the girl who spouts Freudian talk over Szechuan food. She is part herself, part everyone. 'Thank you for writing the story of my life,' her mash notes read. & 'Can you tell me how to leave my husband?' & 'Can you tell me how to find a husband?'
& 'Can you tell me how to write, or how to feel, or how to save my life?' She knows nothing but how to leap. She has no answers for herself or anyone. One foot after another, she flies through the air. . . . She leaps over cracks & breaks her father's back.