the air is brisker as I walk from the dorm with the rooster weathervane on top it's time for dinner; students swarm through quadruple doors smells of mashed potatoes and chicken drift through the halls what table awaits me down below? will Christine make my head hurt with laughter? afterwards, the gaiety continues in her room draped with Egyptian tapestries as she serves spiced teas and biscotti and Joni Mitchell hoots sweetly from the cheap tapedeck later, men join the women to seek Christine's wisdom she beckons them into her romantic visions in which lovers sacrifice their souls for the glory of those brief moments in the dark within this mysterious haven, I find myself emerge amid the satirical banter and uproarious laughter where everyone is suddenly sensuous and desirable and where faded roses always yield to the softness of new petals