___There was nothing to it, nothing else for me to do. ___One week you're there, answering the phone, opening the mail, tending to the plants or to what your neighbors or your friends expect. You're waking earlier each morning to that repeating nightmare. Your friends tire of always reaching in, and each time you beg off anyway. ___Look at my face. I've walked out of my life.
Dessin : d'après une photo de Sarah Moon Texte : Sarah Van Arsdale, in Toward Amnesia