Day after day I drew only Luke's hands. From my photographs of him. I drew only what the photos revealed of his hands. At the time I thought that I drew Luke's hands over and over again so that I could learn to draw hands perfectly. Now I think that it was the physical presence implied by his hands which I was so desperately trying to recreate.

We sat on the back porch drinking Marguaritas watching the sun go down. "I'm giving up the gallery," Sid said. "What you said, it wasn't only about me?" I said. Asked. It was a question. He said: "No. I suppose not. If you want to look at it another way. My role as I loved it has ended. It is easier for you."

"I could not wait to get out of there. Even now, there is something oppressive about the town. I can't explain. it doesn't make sense because I really had a good childhood."

"I know what you mean," I said. I had felt it too.