Images in a train
They lived outside the pale of my existence
Just a few images that touched the fringe
“Hello image” :Mersault addressed Marthe
Just like only one of her other lovers did.
The woman here was a mere image
The way her eyes flashed at her husband
As she changed the nappies of the child.
The child swung in the cloth-cradle, gently,
Like a weaver bird swings in the fibrous nest.
He cried , he gurgled ,he knocked about
A mere image in another image’s existence.
Mersault knew Marthe was a mere image
Flesh-and-blood Marthe did not know this.
This woman did not know she was an image.
Only I knew she was an image ,like Marthe.
Happy Death “.
I was reading this novel in the train )
