Normalcy

STEPHANIE MOOD NORMALCY I suppose you thought we'd carry on as before now that you've accustomed yourself to the fact that your legs have fallen off and the balls for your sockets are almost dried up. I expect you assume it's easy to simply declare victory and have a parade or buy a swimming pool and invite the sun and send smiling pictures through the mail. But what shall I choose from your table now that your beans are half-baked and your hamburger's lacking both buns and your steak is still making love in the field? Perhaps I should send you an ear so you'd know the ransom's still owing; probably you'd say thanks in a line and never mention your garbage disposal. I'm admittedly at quite a losshow to walk through this jungle and approach your tree what to scream across the canyon at your rock when to tell you there's no chair where you're seated. p. 27: "Hats Reblocked," photograph. Thomas E. Hall, p. 28: "Cosmic Defraction," intaglio. Sandra Hall. 26 ...