I don’t remember how she appeared, honestly. My conscious or my sub-concious, how to to say it correctly, replaced her in my memory. I would have wanted to remember but I can’t. Now only the imagination draws me how she runs for the car from the helicopter, crouches, yells, coughs . . .the driver sticks out from the cabin and looks at her with happy amazement, where to?! But she waves I suppose some little paper . . .or a crust . . .and then she shakes her head, let us, f**k you, golden fish and she awkwardly, but how still? She climbs into the back and tears the trouser leg on a nail . . .
(. . .she climbs in the back, not one rubbish in the hand did she extend, she extended something in the hands, and she threw the leg ridiculously, disgustingly rolled over the side, but she did not not
