Trafika Europe 6 - Arabesque

ablation

flows over my clothes. I let it spray me even though the water is cold. I feel that it is helping me. I sit in the shower as the water splashes onto my head. In the process of getting up, I bang into the wall. I hang onto the shower curtain. At last I get out, take of f my pajamas, and dry myself with a towel. I tell myself: if I can make a coffee, I am saved. I drink a coffee, then another. I am butt naked. The neighbors can see me. I am laughing at them. There’s nothing to see. Instead of returning to the bedroom, I sit in the living room. I calm myself. Black- and-white images parade in front of me. I am outside of my body. I no longer exist. I feel well. I awake one morning with a set plan: to no longer live with the memory of my life.

I look around me. Everything is where it should be. My body escapes. A friend from a conference at the Louvre sent me an invitation to see an exhibition at the Musée d’Orsay called Degas and the Nude . It attracts my at tention. The date has passed. The proposition is tempting. I usually don’t miss big exhibitions. My season pass for La Comédie Française is also lying around here, expired. I have not filled out the form with the date for a reservation. Just beside that lay a notice from the post office—a voluminous packet or a registered letter. I have not taken the time to verify. It waits on the small table by the front door, surrounded by other envelopes which should have been responded to and posted. During this time, I forget. I put a lot of

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