[Waking up.] TRENCHCOAT: Who are you?
SOJAY: Sophie-Jean. My friends call me SoJay... I seen you sleep here every day. Your wife kick you out?
SOJAY: This ain’t no place to sleep when is so cold in the night. Ollie made plenty of soup.
TRENCHCOAT: Who is Ollie?
SOJAY: The lady that take care of us.
TRENCHCOAT: Woman, what are you talking about?
SOJAY: I live right across the street... Is a home for-- for womens who is troubled. Ollie take care of us. She the Principal.
TRENCHCOAT: You mean a home for women with mental problems?
SOJAY: Everybody get mental sometimes. Even Trump. You want some soup or not?
“Sometimes everything you ever possessed slips from your hand like river sand. You watch it drain off, but you can’t save a single particle. It’s got its own place to go. Things. People. Places. Even a cup of coffee. They float off from under your feet and join the stream to nowhere. I don’t want the stream of daily life to swallow the memory of me. I don’t want the eyes of the city to pass me by like a frozen monument, a part of the scenery, lifeless and speechless.”