Tropic of Cancer

But sure, it doesn't feel like a child in my belly. The curve of it does not accord to the size it should be, but the time is right, I counts, exactly nine months, exactly tomorrow. The fear of natural birth frightens me, yet I can't find anyway to escape.

Did I miss my plane? All the travel plan that I've written on the wall, all the dates. Did i miss one of them? Is here Paris, or it awaits?

Wondering around the empty cities, under the high rail, the store with colorful tin tea bottles, the store inaccessible.