Tuesday, November 10, 2015

November 1955

In a real-life drama, she might have walked to the kitchen to put the kettle on as though this was an ordinary Saturday morning. She would have noticed two ships waiting to enter Shoreham Harbour, but in faint sea-mist, erasing the horizon, fusing foreground and background. ‘Why bring this up now?’ she would have asked, without rage, as she heard him behind her at the door.

(Footnote from Words out of Time; see here.)