“In the morning he walzes in, all bright and shiny in his brown velour dressing gown with the monogram on the pocket, with two glasses of fresh orange juice, and he says, Where did you go last night? When I woke up this morning you weren’t there.
“He hadn’t even noticed, he hadn’t noticed all night that I was gone.
“I’m sorry, I said, but I think we have a semantic problem. A problem in communications, or maybe it’s linguistics. What does spending the night usually mean to you? I mean, I’m not knocking the orange juice but I don’t have to spend the night on the sofa to get it, I can squeeze it myself, you know what I mean?”
—Margaret Atwood, from “Bodily Harm”
Photography Credit René Burri
