Читать книгу Jane - Мэгги Нельсон - Страница 14

But soon the fog begins to roll in again, in fingers. For a while the sun illuminates it from the inside, makes it warm. Then slowly the sun moves to the outside, hangs on its edges.

Soon a bakery appears that she has never seen before. There are places like that, places that exist only once, or with only one entrance. Perhaps she has seen this bakery before, in a dream, or in a book still vivid from childhood, the one where a fox bakes éclairs and paces behind the counter.

There is no one else inside. The chairs and tables are strung together with black thread and wire, as if made by birds. She sits down and begins a letter to no one.