Deborah Harry, formerly of Hawthorne, New Jersey, sits there. Deborah Harry, who arrived at the Seventies from the Sixties in a Camaro, eats tuna salad from a little cardboard container with a little plastic fork. Deborah Harry scratches her knee and speaks.

"Sorry I'm late," she says. She gestures toward the tuna salad in vague defense. The tuna is silent.