© Bianca Boer
Niets uit deze uitgave mag zonder schriftelijke toestemming van Bianca Boer worden gekopieerd, gedownload, verveelvoudigd, opgeslagen in een geautomatiseerd gegevensbestand of openbaar gemaakt, in enige vorm of op enige wijze, hetzij elektronisch, mechanisch, door fotokopieën, opnamen, of enig andere manier.

A part of 'Lasix' translated

vertaald in het Engels door Derek van Dassen

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The room is small.  Grey and in a constant twilight.  The curtains are closed.  All colour is tinged with a bit of black.  Brian tries to keep the light out.  Only once did he open the drapes:  and there was the world, the sunlight making the room mercifully bright, more he didn’t need to know.  The room is enough.  Everything he needs is at hand.  The bed, the plush carpet, the ashtray, the TV, the bulletin board, and Chantal’s stuff.  This is Chantal’s room.  There are perfume bottles in the window sill, purses are lying in a pile up against the cupboard and bras are mixed in with socks in a wicker basket.
Brian smokes a cigarette on the bed.  He’s watching TV and waiting for Chantal to come home.  With his back against the headboard he fills the room with smoke.  The cigarette burns quickly; he’s pulling hard on it.  The TV is on but the sound isn’t.