January 17, 1991.

Two deer cross our path. I am in a pickup truck with Gilles. We
reach a ditch in which a huge Christmas tree sits. On each side
of the tree, planted deep in the snow is a tall white candle. I
go to pick the front left-handed one when a group of people stops
to check up on what we are doing. I pretend I am just looking.

We leave in the truck. Gilles drives and I am standing on a
floorboard outside the truck on the passenger's side. Gilles has
to get through a doorway like in a house. It is so narrow. I
can see the frame, just like a real doorway. I am being squeezed
and I tell him to stop the truck.


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