We don’t live in a glass house anymore. Out the windows, it no longer looks like Tuscany. We don’t hear the church bells from Mount Saint Mary’s at noon and at five o’clock. We no longer see the bright reflection of the sun’s rays off the Getty museum across the way.

The night of the fire here I had been to a party for Ronan Farrow’s book Catch and Kill, recounting his reporting of Harvey Weinstein’s alleged rampant sexual abuse and abuse of power, and others’ complicity. Rosanna Arquette introduced him. Farrow spoke quietly, with an astonishing degree of calm certainty that was both poignant and upsetting, as did a number of victims in not-so-measured terms, inciting the listeners to quiet tears and remembrances and renewed defiance, if you have ever been, as I have, a victim of a sexual assault.