On weekends the dorm was empty except for foreign students and a few girls whose parents lived far away. The nearby university canteen was closed. I didn’t mind, I had no desire for company. Thinking back, I realize I wasn’t afraid but serene: all I needed to do now was wait.
I was incapable of reading or listening to music. One day I took a sheet of paper and drew the Passage Cardinet the way I saw it as I was leaving the abortionist’s building: tall façades converging toward a crack in the background. The only time in my adult life when I have felt like drawing.
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