It’s time for something serious, the girl said to her, don’t you think? (but she knew this for a long time). They speak in low tones of shattered glass from China, bought by the architect with the hundred lovers and the one that hated him the most.
(the other side of attraction is repulsion said Freud winking with his dark ‘stache) The pool bubbled from below and the lights came out in great watery cells of darkness. Cells of darkness, she thinks, while the smooth tablecloths are laid out in the yard for the night wedding. Soon candles will be lit, soon the groom will bend his head to his dark bride and pledge forever. She watched all of this with the calm of a small, approaching vehicle with silent wheels.
(All night the jasmine died on the trees, releasing it’s scent. This hurt her)
Is this what we live for, she said to the girl, turning her wet head to her, watching the steam transpire and touch the ledge…always waiting for the depth to occur but meanwhile floating on the surface, peering below?