We are at Barker’s now, sneaked in at dusk. It feels good here all in one room, all in one circle. We’re dusty brown and smoothly tough, with cactus cut hands of lizard scale and sun. The feeling is animal, of wind and rough ground under our feet, and real. We can’t stay here at Barker’s. There’s too many of us. We are hunted. So tonight we dig.
Lynette Fromme, 1969