Textual Analysis

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‘What did he say?’

‘Well… you can read them.’

I hand her the phone.  She reads from the top.

‘I know – my last one’s too long.’

‘No it’s fine!’ she says.  ‘Look, the one he wrote just before it is two-thirds of the length of it, so that’s absolutely fine!’

I put my head in my hands. ‘I know, I counted the fucking lines.  Oh God…’

She gives me a look full of sympathy.

I groan. ‘I hate this stage.  I want it to get to the point where I stop wondering what it all means, and when I’ll next hear from him…’

She thinks for a moment. ‘I’m not sure you ever do… stop.’


On the walk to the station, one of my flatmate’s sound bites comes to mind:

‘When it’s right, you’ll know.  All this shit goes out the window.’

Yeah.  And hits the fan.





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