My cat has gone back to the box where her three kittens are asleep, though she pokes her head out to stare at me every once in awhile, to check if I’m ready to give her food. I’m not. She had a full bowl of chicken three hours ago, and I’m trying to give longer gaps between meals so that when I go away for my treatment, she won’t be left hungry.
I’m still reading “Breast and Eggs” by Mieko Kawakami. It’s about a writer—Natsuko—who lives alone in a flat in Tokyo. The summary at the back doesn’t say that. It talks about how she and her sister and her daughter experience life as women in Japan. It’s more than that. She lives in this flat alone and then goes out into the world and meets people and thinks about them. People come and go but her flat remains the same. That’s not true. She has to move out of her old flat and into a new one, but it still feels the same to me. She always takes comfort by pushing her head deep into her beanbag.
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