(Mother seems very impersonal and far away.)
So?
I have a feeling I sometimes see you at night.
(Mother nods: yes, yes)
And you, the work, Mother?
What?
Your work?
"My" work....
Poetically, I could say: a few seconds in heaven and ... hours in hell.
It's better not to speak about it.
(Mother moans while in trance)
@
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