“What she would like is to lie down and go to sleep. Perhaps later order room service and watch TV. Then feel her body give in to the bed. Allow her brain to succumb to the jetlag as though she'll never have to get up. She should have a shower. She knows that but, taking comfort in the seal of her post-travel grime, is unwilling to let it go. It will keep her in nowhere and on the right side of choice. She will think about making one but will not because, before anything, she should wash and if she hasn't done that... then what can she possibly do? It is a way to keep hold. It is a method of crowd control. A sleight of hand. A diversion Even a moat. An informal abdication from the corporeal world. One of many ways not to exist.”

—Narrator