It was as if she was at least two people, each with their entirely separate habits. There was this woman now with the mottled grey face who had forgotten how to talk to anyone and who spoke as if there were quarried rocks in her mouth and then there was this space in her head where someone else lived on water. Someone who could drift. Someone who was lazy and curious. And if she tipped her head even slightly sideways then she was aware of a river and heat and the smell of carefree skin.