I no longer admire perfection. I only want to see reflections of my flawed self. I like to imagine all the attractive people in the car commercials, perfectly satisfied by their reliable new vehicles, but driving back to broken homes, with unmade beds and troubled relationships. Perhaps I am finally waking up from the psychotic dream that my parents were sold. They thought that money was worth their time. But money comes and goes. Time just goes. Peach Kennedy doesn’t chase money, she chases life.