„She stood motionless on the shore, waiting for the dream to continue, for a solution to become visible, but nothing happened. Then she awoke and thought maybe that was how Pierre had died. Like a bird that takes off and ascends and is suddenly gone.
Free, she thought, released. Then she thought:alone.
She stared at the ceiling. No beauty whatsoever, no freedom; she remembered that Pierre was dead and felt ordinary despair and grief pour in through the dawn. The dream dispersed. Suddenly she was unsure.
Maybe the dream wasn't about Pierre but about herself.“
The Book About Blanche and Marie