Cirrus@Austlit

'I didn't mean to go to the Black Cat jazz club at all. I went out for a walk to cool down after another argument with Bella. I just manged not to slam the door of our hotel room before I jogged down the green-carpeted stairs, strode across the lobby under the dusty chandeliers and pushed though the heavy swinging doors out into the street. There I stopped and took a few deep breaths. We'd been in Ljubljana three days. I liked the place, and wanted to stay longer : hike round the nearby lakes, make sketches of the frescoes in St George's church wander around this pretty little city in its autumn foliage. Bella said she was bored and couldn't we just go onto Belgrade where she knew lots of people and there were parties every night. Our differences about our holiday escalated until she was shouting and I was icily sarcastic. Despite her athletic beauty, I began to wonder whether Bella and I were a good match after all.' ( introduction)

'Lying in bed does no good.'

'Getting up doesn't, either. And it takes effort.' 

'You could cut the lawn.'

'It'll only grow more if you encourage it.'

'Lying there like God.'

She's gone, slamming the door. she's not a slammer, more a decisive clicker. That's worse, It doesn't give you the satisfaction of thinking, 'Now, now, darling! Nasty temper! Lying here like God. Well it is the Sabbath. He rested, didn't he? (Spare me your Sabbath, seventh day, finnicking.) But he rested after a spot of major construction. He sat back and thought : 'There's a good job done. Now I know who I AM. I'm the Creator!'

I envy him his certainty, that sense of identity ...

(Introduction)