Thursday, November 13, 2014

I was at Eliane’s apartment around the time my dad was dying, and I was somehow responsible. Like I’d let some murderous person into the building by accident.

And I dreamt about cocaine. Big, big piles of coke. Someone offered it to me, a woman I think. The lines looked like little snowdrifts, too big to snort in one go. I felt daunted, but I also desired it. I felt myself getting high even before I leaned over with the bill in my nose.