[after looking over her poem] Auster: Okay... you tell me. Meg: I don't know. Auster: Why not? Are you afraid I'm going to tell you your work stinks? Meg: Does it? Auster: What do you think? Meg: Probably. I don't know. Auster: Come back when you do. [rises, starts to leave] Meg: It doesn't stink. There's a line that I like. Auster: Which one? Meg: "Lost leaves spin past the glass, but the trees don't go. They stay by my window." Auster: What about the rest of it? Meg: I could go deeper. Auster: Good for you.
2
[Repeated line] Auster: Are you okay?
3
Auster: A world emerges from little details. For example, when we buried my son, I had forgotten to put in my contact lenses. I stood over him before they closed the coffin, trying to fix him in my memory. I could see the red from his sweater and his blue pants, and there was a scab on his forehead that hadn't healed. It was from a bicycle accident. I could feel that scab when I kissed him, but when I looked at him... he was out of focus.
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