They must be undergoing a crisis of some kind, they always are, we decide of those who come to join our table. – 'Never listen to us', W. says. 'We give bad advice, don't we?' Very bad, I agree. But still they listen. We must have the air of people in the know, I say to W. – 'We have the air of idiots', says W.
W. likes to ask questions of the people who join us, who are invariably tongue-tied and confused. – 'What's your favourite colour?', or 'Do you have any recurring dreams?' When all else fails, W. tells us about his. It encourages confidances, he says, and besides, it amuses me.
He's driving a car on an endless highway, W. says, which is funny, because he can't drive. And then what?, our guest will inevitably ask. That's it: the car, driving, and the highway. Well, here I am, driving again, that's what he says to himself, in his recurring dream. He's not sure what it means.
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