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Ever wondered while sat in a bar what sort of life the aging couple sat close by are leading or have led? Would you start to imagine their life histories whilst also reflecting on your own? That's kind of what Duras explores in this short novel told in her familiar spare style with lots of really short sentences. This must have been something like my tenth Duras novel, and I'd put it somewhere in the middle. It's one her most experimental and original works I'd say, and is a story within a story. One real. One not. It's clever, and despite being told in a rather simple manner, like some of her other books, she rarely ever lacks wisdom, depth or complexity, and has a knack of including a startling or strange beauty that slowly builds, which we also get here. I suppose it could be seen as a kind of autobiographical memoir too, which is both meandering and cerebral, about her own intimate feelings and thoughts, perceptions and memories, while she simply relaxes at a table in a familiar cafe with her companion. I really liked it. A beautiful and thoughtful book.