Time doesn’t seem to matter here. It doesn’t flow at the usual speed. It doesn’t flow, really. It’s, like, an interlude.

Between what and what?

Between life and life.

You mean this is death.

This is another kind of life.

 

I feel like we’ve got lost in the afternoon and we’ll never get out.

 

The afternoon labyrinth. The afternoon maze.

Are you looking for an exit?

I want to get more deeply lost.

 

What’s the rest of the world doing, while we’re doing this?

The rest of the world’s busy.

I’m sick of being busy.

 

What does all this add up to? Our days together. Our affair. What does it mean?

 

I always feel half asleep here. It’s the sea air. Its tiring.

 

What next? Is there going to be a next?

 

I could just fall asleep here. It’s the sea air, I think … The ozone, or whatever … I could just pass out. And dream of wonderful things. Of even bigger skies. Of even wider seas. Of a horizon that goes right out – for fifty miles … a hundred. Where you can see ships coming in from the infinite. How about that?

 

I could fall asleep here. And dream of … Expansive things. Big things. And things coming apart. Into their atoms. And atoms coming apart into … whatever atoms come apart into.

Subatomic particles.

Yes, those. Tiny, tiny things. Maybe things just get smaller and smaller forever. And maybe things just get bigger and bigger forever. The universe is infinitely vast and infinitely tiny, both at once. I like that idea.