in a house with a white picket fence and hedges, filled with music and women, itís not exactly what i pictured but itís pretty damn close. i wanted a house like this filled with the girls i know and love and their music and well, maybe i donít know these girls but iím grateful for the music all the same. at night i fall asleep to the singer down the hall from me and the violinist in harmony with the oboeist upstairs. the heart will be mended with music if not warmed. i feel so cold here, as though nothing could warm me, as though i am caught in an endless calgary winter caused largely by a sadness i canít contain. i knew i would feel lonely here but the capacity of that loneliness creeped on me like a cruel joke, a shock of frost in june. yet there is song, and in the courtyards there are hummingbirds, hovering jewels of hope in deep red flowers hung like bells. i will find a home here, with my heart and also with my feet.