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A short story of isolation in a cramped apartment about alienated Vanda, if not the protagonist, then a senseless hitchhiker along the highway. She appears like a cloud of debris on the city’s edge, drifting just as aimlessly through her life, sometimes eavesdropping at the door, other times dissolving into the corridor’s half-light. A study of life through tree branches drumming the window and reflections of a table lamp on the ceiling — in poems, plays and other useless forms.
