On the surface of the globe, for living matter in general, energy is always in excess; the question is always posed in terms of extravagance. The choice is limited to how the wealth is to be squandered.
BASRA WAKES TO the sound of knocking at the door. His clock reads 4.11 pm.
He doesn’t get visitors.
The extra Seroquel he’d taken on the way home makes him unduly tired.
He thinks the knocking is probably a nightmare, so falls back into his pillows. But the knocking persists and Basra, unable to properly stand up, shouts: ‘What!’
‘Basra, it’s Marguerite.’
He focuses his attention on the door, like a deer, but can’t clear his head. ‘Okay…’ he says, looking for his clothes.