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Getting Lost, Annie Ernaux (tr. Alison L. Strayer)

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My hair was wet and dripping on the dirt as I hiked down the mountain today, then it dried in the sun and became a curly halo on my head, ate a bag of raw beets in the car with the drivers side open, legs sprawled, the beets stained everything. I’m thinking about purity and burial rituals. A very tall swiss man in his 60s made conversation with me but I felt like he didn’t realize I was there the entire time that he spoke. Still, I felt soft towards him. I decided I want my own space, I don’t know where or when. But I want a home. I both want to be close to those I love and as far away from their gaze as possible. I swan dived into every woman I ever was and will ever be. And in my lucid dream I told someone with very distinct but unrecognizable energy to meet me at a bush with purple flowers before the year ends.