“I’m going to write my autobiography” she said.
She stood up, took a roll of thick thread and began to tie, in succession, some of the things she found in the room. Five tea cups, three books, the microwave, her favorite armchair, a pair of shoes… She tied them tightly, gently laid them down on the floor and went for something more.
I was watching in silence and that unusual sequence made me think of the massive necklace of a huge and forgetful being that vanished, enormous and naked.
Then, I had a silly thought and smiled; I wondered how she could represent that scraped boat abandoned on the volcanic beach and its shadow where we spent the largest part of our first summer together.