Her life with others no longer interests him. He wants only her stalking beauty her theatre of expressions. He wants the minute secret reflection between them the depth of field minimal their foreignness intimate like two pages of a closed book.

There are betrayals in war that are childlike compared with our human betrayals during peace. The new lovers enter the habits of the other. Things are smashed revealed in a new light. This is done with nervous or tender sentences although the heart is an organ of fire.

I believe this. When we meet those we fall in love with there is an aspect of our spirit that is historian a bit of a pedant who reminisces or remembers a meeting when the other has passed by innocentlybut all parts of the body must be ready for the other all atoms must jump in one direction for desire to occur.

She entered the story knowing she would emerge from it feeling she had been immersed in the lives of others in plots that stretched back twenty years her body full of sentences and moments as if awaking from sleep with a heaviness caused by unremembered dreams.

Moments before sleep are when she feels most alive leaping across fragments of the day bringing each moment into the bed with her like a child with schoolbooks and pencils. The day seems to have no order until these times which are like a ledger for her her body full of stories and situations.