Al Bousala | Mathias Enard

I listened to her absent-mindedly, absorbed in her contemplation. Despite her emaciation and dark circles under her eyes, her face exuded strength, determination, and tenderness at the same time. Her eyes radiated the flames of her thoughts; Her chest looked more atrophied than it had been a few months before; The neckline of her sweater was made of black cashmere, revealing a tip of the same color as her inner dress, which showed its thin suspender line under the wool in the middle of the shoulder. The freckles that draped her skin, where the protruding bone in the middle of her rib cage, spread along the hem of her undergarment, all the way to the collarbones, over which earrings hung from her ears.