Resentful after an ugly divorce from her unfaithful husband, Judith McGuire moves to Los Angeles. Adrift and detached, she spends her days and nights wandering through her new city, cynically remarking on the hypocrisy, vanity and brutality of the modern world and humanity's alienation from themselves and each other.

"POET: "What's you name, traveller?" WOMAN: "Judith X" POET: "What's the X?" WOMAN: "X-Mcguire. I'm divorced." POET: "Alone?" WOMAN: "Alone" POET: "Why?" WOMAN "Because the touch of human skin makes me sick!""