I thought I was dead. I wished I was dying. My poor mother! It was her heart that eventually killed her. This part of the river is popular for suicide attempts. But what if I can’t? I kept thinking. What then? Small gray birds from last night’s dream flapped in the bushes. I needed an introduction to myself. A woman who looked vaguely familiar was playing an invisible piano. Those Parisians, they all wanted to see her. Rain started falling, and a good thing it did, full of smiling fish and neon swirls and squiggles.