I have to do something different, but I don’t know what. It may be everything or it may be something small that changes everything. I remember standing in the room where the coats were, debating what to do. Change is pressed upon one. That was her translation from the French. The question was about change, about whether change is possible, and she quoted this from the French. When she arrived, she smiled and waved to me. Had she come over and talked, I would have welcomed it, but since she didn’t, I stayed where I was. It wasn’t a game. I was sitting on the couch, and there was room to my left, although in fairness to her, there were also some pillows there, which she would have had to move aside. Later, as people took their seats at the table, I saw an open seat beside her and almost sat down but instead went to the kitchen to get my potatoes. By the time I finished transferring the potatoes to a serving dish and placing the dish on a side table, the seat was taken. Each thing has its momentum. In the room with the coats I decided she wasn’t who I wanted, and vice versa, and that I would leave. I may have been wrong, but one must decide based on what one knows. You cannot divide yourself into two people and live two lives to see which is better. There is another world, she said, again quoting the French, evidently she spoke French, but it is in this one. oblivio