...Moonie sits on the two foot stretch of crabgrass behind the Bread & Circus dumpster. She is smoking a joint. All that work, soliciting a congregation, has exhausted her. She lifts her narrow chin to the moon, weed suspended in gaseous form, weed infusing her deep inner space, and she reflects. What forces have brought her here, if not cosmic? Her heightened consciousness, the new moon, her sense of imminent interconnectedness-- all converge to point her somewhere... Unfortunately for us, seems Moonie found her way to FR.