I follow how the bands of light unfold, how the dust dances across the bands of light. Sometimes I start. I see myself start. For a moment I close my eyes. The darkness behind my eyelids, in which the outer forms appear in their reversal, is not the place from which I see myself. I am standing behind the counter. I am wearing a white apron. I see how I smooth out the folds, with a quick movement across my lower belly, about a hand’s breadth away from the edge of the counter. I open my eyes, let my gaze wander along the shelf, past the tins, fruit like pears and apricots cut into pieces on the right-hand side of the shelf, on the left the vegetable tins: artichokes, beans, corn…

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