"i wish i was born in the 90s" says the young girl. suddenly, her surroundings change- french flags fly above and around her, crowds are cheering. it is france, 1793. the king is dead. long live the revolution.
I don't know when I started to communicate with cheesecakes. They seek me out. They find me. They sometimes talk to me in the middle of the night, sobbing as they relate their troubles to me. And I listen.