A three-hundred-pound teen-age girl came to our room this morning with a pair of shoes that she wanted to raffle off at twenty centavos a chance.
As I looked at her misshapen body, I wondered if glands or food were the cause of her obesity. Time alone would tell.
We enjoyed the sacred concert given us by the mixed chorus in the Father’s garden. Between Bach and Handel solos, Nipponese planes circled over our heads in an annoying fashion, while two frisky goats belonging to the priests stomped and gamboled about.