A conversation in the bath-tub

by Arran James

L.- I try to live my life according to one word; ‘balance’.

Me- But ecosystems destroy themselves and entropy betrays homeostasis.

L.- I mean as in dance; the body is constantly readjusting its balance.

Me- But eventually it stoops or seizes, eventually it withers and stops. Eventually it dies.

L. is quiet for a moment. I can see she thinks I’ve gone to an extreme and that this conversation is irresolvable.

Me- What if you have an inner-ear infection?

L.- Then have a lie down.

We laugh at this. We laugh at disturbance, entropy, the discrete death of the individual and the unremarkable death of the cosmos. And in an enigmatic kind of way I realise that I could say I love her because of trait, because of what it represents of the whole inaccessible core of her: the ability to remain silent in the face of these pointless grand allusions, and to find humour in the sorrow of all the things that have come into existence and, inevitably, pass out of it.

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