 Thank you, Jack, and thank you, the library. Sumi Abedin. I am going to Two Folsom Street, the gap headquarters down near the bay, a large square building dominating the block. I hurry to get to the rally to ask the gap to sign the fire and building safety agreement. Sumi Abedin, a garment worker from Bangladesh, stands in front of inert pretend corpses shrouded in white sheets, her face a map of sadness. She jumped from a factory building on fire so her parents could identify her dead body. So she would be more than ash or flame, charred bones and tissue, a face, a name, a daughter, arriving on the sidewalk, whole but deceased. Yet she opened her eyes to the sunlight, to the smoke, to the fire. She asks, I keep thinking, will there be more fires, more collapses, more ash, and burns, more nightmares, more sorrow?