Elsa-Louise Manceaux, “Untitled”, gouache and color pencil on newsprint paper, 2017.

“The years have flown and there at the same places as then you sit in the bloom of adulthood bathed in rainbow light gazing before you. She is late. You close your eyes and try to calculate the volume. Simple sums you find a help in times of trouble. A haven. You arrive in the end at seven cubic yards approximately. Even still in the timeless dark you find figures a comfort. You assume a certain heart rate and reckon how many thumps a day”
Samuel Beckett, “Westward ho” in Worstward Ho London: Calder, 1983, pp.24