I want to close my eyes and for true not be here even though I have to be here. I told her I would send her the book about Paris and I never did. I told her I sent the book but I never did nor did I ever intend to send it. I didn’t want her to have it or even know about it. She would have hated it would have hated reading about Adrienne Monnier and Janet Flanner and the photos of Gertrude all of it. She hates everything. I lie through my teeth every time I speak to her I turn off my phone in the middle of the conversation so she assumes I’m driving through a tunnel or my battery has gone dead one of the golden [cell] phone ways of stopping a conversation when I am finished with it. There are unpleasantries. My cheeks burn with it. My cheeks are so rosy I look like Heidi even though I can barely move even though it is swimming in mud with the bowfin Amia calva. All the women looked like clay those beautiful dresses and clay skin. Who are you? Your faces swim in and out of focus. All I have to do is wait it out.