I am now at the Hu[e]rt Museum at Rue Le Mepris. Beneath the stains of time, feelings disappear, I think once again. Other images appear, merge, in that museum, which is perhaps that of my memory.
But I learned my lesson: because some memories had survived, I could not refuse their existence or the means of their survival.
Now she is at Rue de Montage, at café Marrienbad.
Men can see nothing around them that is not in their own image; Everything speaks to them of themselves, she thinks.
One for your sorrow, one for my anger, I said.
(We re listening to music, coming from a distant place, Two Wrongs Don't Make A Right, mixed with I Love how you Love me)
Then another wave of Time washes over her.
I' m gone.
Heart and soul. Both will burn.
I am over and out.