A previous house-call salon client....Charlotte.

A letter to Charlotte: "I saw you in the rest home yesterday, when I came by after work. You introduced me to the two aid women who were bending to shift you from one side to another. Both of them looked up at me from what they were doing. One said, "So You're Diana! She talks about you all the time. She says you are her angel." I look at you all itty bitty, Charlotte, and your eyes are so different than they used to be. Your eyes have huge black pupils like shiny, wet, black dinner plates on round, milky blue place mats that are barely bigger than the black plates. The whole of your eyes give off a look of wildness and abandon at the same time -- like the gaze from them alone has become the clutching of life to life -- a teetering on the tightrope between this world and the next. I could hardly look away from them because it felt like every bit of you had gone there, to your reaching-out eyes. I love you. "