Dearest Sweetest Hearts,
What am I going to do if Trump wins? This is the question I asked the Angel two nights ago. Planet Earth will not be mine. But how do I get myself to the Moon or Mars or somewhere? Anywhere.
Obviously, both Looney and my father are in a better space to tell us about demagogues. I just sit here, cortisol levels rising.
The Angel has little patience with politics. Listening to him I feel better and wonder why I bothered to be born.