“I’m doing fine. On my festival days they still feast on eggs and rabbits, on candy and on flesh, to represent rebirth and copulation. They wear flowers in their bonnets and they give each other flowers. They do it in my name. More and more of them every year. In my name, old wolf.”
“Here’s how it works: Almost all of us at the Home have Sunday Foster Parents. These are parents who want to take care of a child on Sundays, and so they come to the Home and pick one. Then that child is called a Sunday Foster Child and is allowed to go out with them every Sunday, and longer at Christmas and Easter. It’s really great!”
Many, many days and nights passed. The three trees nearly forgot their dreams. But one night golden starlight poured over the first tree as a young woman placed her newborn baby in the feed box.”