Beginning finally when it was just about, to begin, too late, she could not not begin no more, C stacks her hopes against the odds, grinds her odds into a frenzy. Moving methodically yet without outline, without drawing board C enters a destructive tract, with firm & moment movements, her breathing easy, even, her eyes open unblinking; or shut & to corners wildly pulsating. Breaks what crushes, shatters, rips apart. Slashes with a knife, what is too tough for her skin-and-bone hands, hammers with a pounding. Mattress slash, the feathered room, heavy pile of wardrobe MDF boards, clothes torn hand by hand, curtain stripped from rails & ripped apart. Kitchen space a cloud of spice and herbal trace, a pile of spices, pans, pots, glass, cutlery & cups. C moves from edges of her living room concentrically more centrally. Turns over dinner table, hammers into table paws; pulls down curtain down, quarters the four chairs; vivisects & autopsies & guts two sofas; topples, onto top of the pile, in the middle of the room, her one bookcase facing her one other bookcase; topples onto middle pile her other bookcase facing no longer her first bookcase; rips slightly at wallpaper, dawdles indecisively, strays unwound, uncertainly, meanders into bathroom room, hangs herself, wet towel, for some time over an edge of a bathtub; locks the door and waits for an appointment to arise, a visitor to come and knock; C sits onto a closed toilet manually folding certain pleats into her pants’ pleats, presses with her hands and rubs direct down. Presses, rubs. Unbuttons up & rebuttons down her shirt; uncollars then folds down the collar of her shirt; unties thus reties very perfectly the laces of her shoes; speculates for a moment, had C long hair, she would braid her hair in two; nostalgia for a moment that was never there. C sits straight on the toilet, head high back straight, fingers pointing forward resting on her thighs. C waits to be beamed up; C readies for a visitor to come and knock.