I haven't interviewed my dear wife Felicity in a couple of months. She's looking slightly fatigued around the elbows and her right eye is twitching. Her hair hangs in a loose ponytail at the back of her neck and a bright magenta lipstick coats her lips. She wears a floral summer dress cinched with an orange belt. Her feet are bare and stained with dirt from the garden.
FF - Excuse me while I clear my throat. I am getting over a summer cold and it seems the fluids are still trying to make their way out.
FF - không có vấn đề - or as they say in English, "no problem."
FF - So I see that you've been summoned to jury duty.
FF - Yes, it's true. I still have to fill out the eligibility form and send it to the jury coordinator. But I'm sure I'm not the right fit.
FF - Why not?
FF - I don't think the system works well. There are too many things that aren't considered when a human being is on trial.
FF - Like?
FF - The full background of each person. Where they come from, their rearing, their race, their sex, what they eat every day for breakfast, the number of fingers they have. Everything should be examined thoughtfully and with compassion, despite what the person has done.
FF - I think that's a good idea.
FF - Of course you do.
FF - What else is happening for you right now?
FF - I'm taking a much needed pause while Beckett naps. Thinking about not thinking. Not doing. And what that looks like (if anything at all). I'm also thinking about laughter and where it's stored. Envisioning a tiny little storage locker filled with laughter.
FF - I know of a few good laughter storage lockers.
FF - Where are they?
FF - There is one next to Mary's strip club in downtown Portland and another on the top of Mount Hood. There is one in the basement of Andrew Torregrossa & Sons Funeral Home in Brooklyn and another one four miles south of Štrigova in Croatia.
FF - You are one incredibly resourceful lass.
