MARGUERITE DURAS
The Malady of Death

Sometimes you pace the room, around the bed or along the walls by the sea.

Sometimes you weep.

Sometimes you go out on the terrace in the growing cold.

You don't know what's in the sleep of the girl in the bed.

You'd like to start from that body and get back to the bodies of others, to your own, to get back to yourself.

And yet it is because you must do this that you weep.