 Hi, good afternoon. I'm Jennifer Hasegawa and I'm gonna give another thanks to Shizue for bringing us all together and thank you all for your words and your images for raising my consciousness today and lifting my heart. And I'm so nervous, surrounded by all this greatness, so thank you. Villanelle on Los Angeles, 1992. She was half his size, but her arm was light years long. He was straight backed and strode in never been wet boat shoes. How his soft honey hair jerked when schoolgirl knocked him down. Suki braids escaped gravity on her head, made strong by the verdict of 12 strangers. No change of venue as her fists to his face broadcast the news light years long. Our heads bobbed against heavy bus windows all along. The route from Slosson to downtown, but as her fist flew at McClintock, we all knew that schoolgirl knocked him down. The driver whistled low and switched his radio on as the motor moaned to dams, signaling corner coups that would reveal a city burned down blocks light years long. Shopping carts careened, unboxed TV side long. Outstored doors, flattened shoeboxes, bloomed their gray pulp hues. While men on roofs held rifles, because schoolgirl knocked him down. Hair trigger, DUI, orange juice, entrenching wrong into law of brick and fire. Oh, Pirations, you cruise, burn through resins, put a spit shine on fear light years long. Kamsamnida, how you like us now? Schoolgirl knocked him down.