Poets

At the hotel a woman in her underwear pores over a train timetable. An hour later, in low spirits and bone-tired,

In this bedroom devoid of furniture and unpolluted the action is set. It is filled with sunlight admitted by the window and my footsteps resound

The right to switch on the lights in the bedroom at night and to take a turn back and forth half naked without drawing curtains or lowering blinds