I heard Jesus was standing under Kyoto bridge and went out to meet him, under the pretext of going to get a snack. My keys in hand—because it was night and the door would lock behind me—I went. I found only the smokers, the dregs, the winos. I helped my friend and his daughter cook food for one of her homework assignments for a class on multiculturalism. I ended up talking movies to a co-worker who had just seen some big action movie. I liked to see films with a good story and a few good characters, I said. He said, "Like Robin Williams and Tim—uh?" "Curry," I said. "Right. Tim Curry. And they go door to door selling cookies as Wilderness Girls." I don't tell him, but there is no such movie.