Simone Weil,
a glass of milk,
the air-conditioner, already on in March,
a small container of licorice
a bottle of water
a small box of pickled unripe mangoes
lip balm, strawberry
a half opened diary with a pen inside
earplugs
a grey-indigo blanket
a dull pain on my left wrist
that doesn’t go away
Beyond Six Rivers 