35.2 degrees

“The kitchen sink is still plugged up. Now that it’s hot out, the water’s even more stagnant. So Manu piles the dirty dishes in the bathroom sink.
For once, Radouan wasn’t exaggerating: this hash is first-rate.
She drops the ashtray into the water without emptying it. A black film instantly coats everything soaking. She curses out the ashtray and slams the bathroom door soshe doesn’t have to look at it.
She needs to go out and buy something to drink. She starts hunting in the pile of dirty laundry for a jacket that isn’t too stained. She swears she’ll go to the Laundromat before the end of the week. While zipping up a jacket that stinks of stale tobacco, she realizes that the day’s much too hot for one.
It seems like she decided to go buy something to drink several hours ago. The apartment’s been changed into a gigantic puzzle.
First-rate hash, Radouan left her a big piece.
She’s forgotten where the keys to the apartment are. Pulls the place apart looking for them. Even looks in the fridge, you never know.
Finally she finds them in the pocket of some jeans.
She somehow makes it to the street. The sun socks her like a headlight in the face. It’s hot enough to sit on the sidewalk and wait for evening. She squints, realizing she’s forgotten her sunglasses, but gives up on going back upstairs to look for them.”


text: Virginie Despentes, “Baise-moi”
photo: Marianna P
model: Sylwia J

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