It wasn’t a goal of mine, certainly. As a child, I never once dreamed, ‘I will be a poor mother.’ I had fully intended to be a forest ranger. Now I realise there just isn’t enough human contact in that field for me. But then, look where human contact got me.

Lucy and her eight-month-old son Dill live in a public assistance housing building filled with single mothers on the dole. Lucy doesn’t know who Dill’s father is - to tell you the truth, Lucy’s done her best to forget the men she was with around the time her son was conceived. Lucy’s neighbour Lish, on the other hand, remembers her twins’ father very well. He was a street performer who went by Gotcha, said he loved her and suggested that she join him on the road - before he made himself, along with Lish’s cotton purse, disappear for good. On the whole, Lish and her kids seem happy. But Lucy wants to keep them happy - and she has a plan: write letters. And sign them, ‘Love, Gotcha’.