Allegra Harvard

Closing Thoughts

I am going to read the blue and brown books. I don’t understand certainty. Everything is permissible. I listen to classical music and understand a small amount of how it’s made. The small things. I don’t have any cashmere sweaters. I have a hardwood table and four Eames chairs in the living room. In the kitchen, I have liquid soap and in the bathroom, I have regular soap. I live alone. Next year I will wear more orange but this year I am keeping to colder reds. I need to call my grandmother. She is still alive. I just finished a Jean Cocteau anthology. I’m going to an opening next month that my friend is in. I need to call my doctor and get my yearly examination. There’s at least two other people living in the same building as me. The gospel is playing and I am listening to it. One time I broke into the church. I’m going to eat caviar later with a dry white wine. Last year I asked for a raise and they gave it to me. I’ve never been on a motorcycle because I heard they are dangerous. I’m going to the opera for a matinée showing this Sunday and I will bring my mother, her mother, and her best friend. I secretly like camp as much as I like minimalism, the institution, and money. I used to live in the country and now I don’t. I wash my darks with my darks and do a separate load for the lights. I subscribe to the newspaper. Sometimes I wear lipstick and fur. I am organized. I keep to myself. 3⁄4 of these statements are lies yet one person in the world who could identify with the 3⁄4’s lie, if not all.