Marie Borel, p.3

The tree in the front yard is a giant in the fall light. You’ve spent the night in this house, you’re leaving today. In this limpid impression, the phrases coined establish a voice. Slander and scandal spread measles, the tedium of marriage brings about malaria, and lovers too tired to call it quits produce nausea. A slow rage is exhausting. Cats come down off their rooftops from curiosity. Two lovers find each other, because there’s no one else to find. At least they embrace. It’s that kind of day. After all, there are a lot of men like you.