I feel I could fall asleep here, Priya says. And dream of … Expansive things. Big things. Of even bigger skies. Of even wider seas. Of a horizon that goes right out – for fifty miles … a hundred. From which you could see ships coming in from the infinite. And I’d dream of things coming apart, too. Things dispersing. Into their atoms. And atoms coming apart into … whatever atoms come apart into.
Subatomic particles, I say.
Yes, those, Priya says. And they’ll come apart too. Into even smaller things … Maybe things just get smaller and smaller forever. And maybe big things just get bigger and bigger forever. Maybe the universe is infinitely vast and infinitely tiny, both at once. I like that idea.
Silence.
What’s the rest of the world doing, while we’re doing this? Priya asks.
The rest of the world’s busy, I say.
I’m tired of … busy, Priya says.
Silence.
Time doesn’t seem to matter here, does it? Priya says. It doesn’t flow at the usual speed. It doesn’t flow at all, really. It’s like we’ve got lost in the afternoon and we’ll never get out. Like we’re lost in the afternoon labyrinth. The afternoon maze.
Are you looking for an exit? I ask.
I want to get more deeply lost, Priya says.
Silence.
What does all this add up to? Priya asks. Our days together. Our affair. What does it mean?
Why does it have to mean anything? I ask.
You’re the philosopher – you tell me, Priya says. I mean, what did we just do? What are we doing? In the middle of the day. In the middle of the universe … Look at us, lying around. In disarray. Are we allowed to be like this? Are we allowed to do this?
We can do what we like, I say.
But should we be allowed to do what we like: that’s my question, Priya says.
Who’s stopping us? I ask.
The light on the floor, Priya says. That beams through the skylight … The quivering light. What is it?
Light, just light, I say.
I think it’s God, Priya says.
God? I say.
I think it’s all we know of God, Priya says. A quality of light. A patch of light. Is God watching us?
No one’s watching, I say. Unless your husband’s on the roof.
God’s watching, Priya says. That’s the thing … I like using the word, God, philosopher. I feel like I’m allowed to use the word, God, here.
Me, quoting: Is God unknown? Is he manifest as the sky? This, rather, I believe.
Don’t say you’re an atheist – I’m bored of atheists, Priya says. Atheism is so dull a position, especially if you are an atheist. You should always be interesting about God.
Do you believe in God? I ask.
I think God believes in me, Priya says. I think I’m a dream in the mind of God.
So God’s dreaming all this, I say. God’s dreaming you and dreaming me.
Maybe – why not? I say.
Why not anything? Priya says.
Sure – why not anything, I say.
God, I feel afternoon-drunk, Priya says. Drunk on the afternoon. I feel like I’m falling, just falling. And you, too – you’re falling, too. Because we’re both unanchored. We’ve got no … responsibilities. There’s nothing for us to do, except … this. Whatever this is.
Falling in love, maybe, I say.
Are we falling in love? Priya asks. I don’t think so. I think we’re just contemplating love. We’re holding it at a distance, and looking at it. We’re far from love, just like we’re far from everything …
It’s like something’s taking place … through us, Priya says. Despite us, almost. Against us, maybe. Some kind of event – or non-event. Something that’s not happening. That’s subtracting happening from happening. What the fuck am I saying? What is this room doing to me?
I feel so vague, Priya says. Do you feel vague? Are we supposed to feel like this? Like, we can’t think anything. Anything clear, anyway. Anything precise … We’ve been disarmed. We’ve been placed out of service. We’re not needed anywhere. We’re surplus to requirements. We were ordered by mistake, or whatever, and just stockpiled …
I’m falling, philosopher, Priya says. Not falling in love, just falling. When I close my eyes, I get vertigo … Why do I come out here? Why do I feel these things? Does this flat do this to everyone? It’s like you’ve cast some spell over me. Like you want to keep me here forever.
If I fell asleep now, what would happen? Priya asks. If I feel asleep and woke up and fell asleep and just …
So fall asleep, I say.
I can’t even finish a sentence, Priya says. It’s being drunk without being drunk. Fuck, I can’t think a single clear thing … I feel so fucked. God, how will I ever get up? How will I ever do anything again?
I kinda want to get dressed and go, Priya says. I kinda want to drive off home. I kinda want to actually go to the gym instead of pretending at the gym … Anything except this. But then I like this …
And you’re not going to save me – I know that, Priya says. You’re not going to break my fall. You’re not going to do anything.
You don’t need saving, I say.
What do I need? Priya asks. What do I want? What am I doing here? What’s anything? Why anything? I don’t know what I used to know. And what I know now … isn’t good for anything. And I’m not good for anything. And nor are you, but you know that.
Are we meditating, or something? Priya asks. Are we praying or something? And to who? Who’s listening? Who’s watching?
The day will never end, Priya says. It’ll never be over. It’ll just go on forever. This moment is, like, a forever moment. Of nothing happening. Of nothing happening, forever.
Work in Progress 