Morning prayers took the girl unawares. She was late for class and she knew it. The broadcaster had a voice that was soothing. She couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman. A patch of sun fell onto her desk. She put her head on her arms on her neck. The lesson today was Acts of Apostles. The crazy hippies they’re running scared. She shut her eyes and imagined the desert. No cars no mobiles just sun and bread. What would she look like standing by the well?. More like a women and less like a girl. “Oh if I could make sense of it all!. I wish that I could sing. I’d stay in a melody. I would float along in my everlasting song. What would I do to believe?”. Later on she plays Morning Has Broken. She knows she’s bad. She is slowing everbody down. The choirmaster usually a bastard knows her mother’s sick. He’ll be nice to her. She thinks that she shouldn’t be there at all. Her worries make everything else seem trivial. “Oh if I could make sense of it all!. I wish that I could sing. I’d stay in a melody. I would float along in my everlasting song. What would I do to believe?”