It is the year 2002. The film industry is slow, I've been unemployed for 7 months. I have no knowledge about felled trees or what it feels like to sail the open water, what it's like to parasail 800 ft, that I love the ocean or that I (and you) can do anything I (you) want. I'm eating my last can of tuna. My car is parked and I won't put gas in it because I have no money. My worries aren't how I'll pay next month's rent, but if I'll get to go to the park today to make wings. It's sunny, and I'm living in my apartment on 12th and Hemlock, prentending that the bars on the doors make my doors french doors. My neighbour and I have an agreement that we can be loud. And I don't have neighbours on the other side so I needn't worry about our bedrooms touching and me being horrified at the sounds of strangers making love. I'm missing my long walks to Vanier park to watch the kites in the air. Here I 'm the same, only it's 2004 and I''ve forgotten a lot but I've also learned a lot too. In my head right now it's 2002.