LONDON FIELDS MEDICAL CENTRE
Duras marche. Duras se sent lourde. Duras est triste. Duras continue.
‘20 pence miss?’
‘Did that guy ask you for money?’
Tartine. Hipster spinster. Lonely Americano. Woosh, woosh.
‘John from the JSA’
‘When my brother died they gave me … Anyway, the property… the sky above me… that particular property’.
Duras is sat down at a café. Duras looks around. Duras bites into a jamful of toast.
NEWSPAPERS SOLD HERE.
a petrol blue sweater spilled-stretched over the shoulder blades
a leg folded over the knee
a hand running through hair
What is he eating?
I wonder what he looks like naked.
Duras does not care. Duras has other things on her mind.
Duras licks the adhesive.
Duras lights up.
Duras sucks on her cigarette. Duras shuts her eyes. Duras bites her lips.
Duras documents. Duras records. Duras is afraid.
Il pleure dans mon coeur, comme il pleut sur la ville…
A plane passes by.