She is thin and glaucous, the hem of her gown droops around her ankles, stops at white stockings in low-cut ivory shoes. Rayon over nylon over satin, thinks Marie, an inventory of poverty; she looks for the bridegroom and finds behind the crinolines a little man squeezed into a powder-blue suit, with pleated lapels. She wishes them naked, against the ash tree where they’ll be photographed, the girl lying on the mangy midsummer grass, her belly offered to the pigeons seeking company, the boy adding cigarette butts to those already lying around her satin shoes. The bodies of both would remain cold. The dog salivates in his sleep, and grinds his teeth. Marie knows why she has brought him back here, why she sits in the same place, knows what she has been waiting for since the sun passed noon. The same warmth, the same understanding of things. The bridal couple will leave again, after exchanging fish-kisses, and it will be three o’clock, the hour when the day begins to wane.
What do You think about Following The Summer (2013)?
