| 3 Early in the morning Early, she turns the key, the engine starts, her body feeling the tremor. She looks at her watch. And as she releases the handbrake a train roars through her car, spreading its grey wings, stars of ashes coughing. She returns in the evening; the morning restored, the seasons packed in a ship, colour of sunsets, and fish and flowers enter the basket on the backseat of her car. |