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[X wanders through the hotel's corridors cataloging items he sees]
X: Empty salons. Corridors. Salons. Doors. Doors. Salons. Empty chairs, deep armchairs, thick carpets. Heavy hangings. Stairs, steps. Steps, one after the other. Glass objects, objects still intact, empty glasses. A glass that falls, three, two, one, zero. Glass partition, letters.
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X: I must have you alive. Alive, as you have already been every evening, for weeks, for months.
A: I have never stayed so long anywhere.
X: Yes, I know. I don't care. For days and days. Why don't you still want to remember anything?
A: You're raving! I'm tired, leave me alone!
Gilles Quéant
Extended Reading
