I notice the way each step sparkles as if dusted with glitter, the mica strewn through the concrete so that I feel as if I am walking on stars. Last night at H's 50th birthday dinner the conversation turned to what kinds of art deserve to be destroyed, what kinds of science should be erased from human knowledge because of the terrible acts committed to achieve such learning. In Judaism, the concept of tikkun olam, repairing the world one act of kindness at a time. I am tired of what pain has to teach. I am tired of the hourly sacrifices made because we refuse to learn. Brain science has detected a difference between empathy and compassion, how one can lead to burn out, how the other can sustain us through the pain horizon. Today I walk the seven floors down to lower parking. I think of the freshly dead, of the freshly dead to come. Underfoot everything shimmering, in some ways everything perfect—this world in which minerals coalesce over millions of years to form such crystalline structures. Yes, in some ways everything is perfect, and in other ways everything is in need of perfecting.