Hana was just telling me that you were indifferent. . . to her cooking.
I have come to love that little tap of the fingernail against the syringe. TapÍ TapÍ Tap.
It wouldn't be make believe if you believed in me.
Read to me will you? Read me to sleep.
I must be a curse. Anybody who loves me, anybody who gets close to me. . . ˇor I must be cursed. Which is it?
Betrayals during war are childlike compared with our betrayals during peace. New lovers are nervous and tender, but smash everything. For the heart is an organ of fire. For the heart is an organ of fireˇ I love that. I believe that.
I've been thinkingˇhow does someone like you decide to come to the desert?
And that would be unconscionable, I suppose, to feel any obligation? Yes. Of course it would.
I'm not one of the walking wounded. It's only one night. Besides, if I remain it's the most effective method of persuading my husband to abandon whatever he's doing and come and rescue us.
This is not very good is it?
Am I a terrible coward to ask how much water we have?
Yes is a comfort. Absolutely is not.
You still have sand in your hair.
A woman should never learn to sew, and if she can she shouldn't admit to it.
This a different world is what I tell myself; a different life. And here I'm a different wife.
I don't care to bargain.
The neck of K can never [be something] not in my mind. and K's clothes always at ease on her. Does he notice? What is the significance of Betrayal? Does K bother with a moral Labyrinth - K's debate - does she debate?
Am I 'K' in your book? I think I must be.
You speak so many bloody languages, and you never want to talk
I can't do this anymore.
Do you think you are the only one who feels anything? Is that what you think?
Why did you hate me? Don't you know you drove everybody mad?
My darling, I'm waiting for you ˇ how long is a day in the dark, or a week? The fire is gone now, and I'm horribly cold. I really ought to drag myself outside but then there would be the sun. . . I'm afraid I waste the light on the paintings and on writing these words. We die, we die rich with lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have entered and swum up like rivers, fears we have hidden in, like this wretched cave. We are the real countries, not the boundaries drawn on maps with the names of powerful men. I know you will come and carry me out into the palace of winds. That's all I've wantedˇ to walk in such a place with you, with friends, on earth without maps.
So. I come across the hospital convoy, I'm looking for this stuff. This nurse, Mary, tells me about you and Hana, hiding in some monastery, in what you call it ˇ retreat - how you'd come in from the desert and you were burned and you didn't remember your name, but you knew the words to every song that ever was and you had one possession - a copy of w:Herodotus and it was filled with letters and cuttings, and then I know it was you. . . I'd seen you writing in that book. At the embassy in Cairo, when I had thumbs, and you had a face. And a name.