Unformed Landscape by Peter Stamm

herhands over her hips, as if to sculpt fresh curves. This is me, she thought, this is my body. That’s all there is.
    Kathrine washed with a cloth, she didn’t feel like having a shower anymore. It was cold in the bathroom, but an English nobleman showered even when it was cold. He ignores the cold, she thought. He doesn’t allow it. She combed her hair, tied it up, and then shook it out again. She plucked a few eyebrows, sniffed her armpits, and washed her feet in the bidet. She squirted a bit of her new perfume on her throat. It smelled of a different country, of night and of love. Why not, she thought, he didn’t insist on having a second bed, after all. An English nobleman, she had once read, used the sugar tongs, even if he is all alone. She had never seen sugar tongs. She pulled on her panties. Then she took them off again, and stepped into the room quite naked.
    Christian was lying in bed. The television was on. An old film starring Catherine Deneuve. Kathrine slipped in beside him under the blankets, and pulled them up to her throat. Christian didn’t look at her, only moved a little to the side to make room for her, and turned the volume down. She felt his nearness, and the warmth of his body. He asked if she wanted him to turn off the television. She said it didn’t bother her.
    “Isn’t she beautiful?” he asked.
    “What film is it?”
    “Belle de Jour
. Catherine Deneuve.”
    “If I was French, my name would be Catherine too. What does the title mean?”
    “Beauty of the day,” said Christian. “It’s the story of a bored woman.”
    He looked at Kathrine. She smiled. She had never been bored, even though her life was monotonous, even though nothing happened in the village. Her favorite days had been the ones where everything was exactly as always. Only Sundays had sometimes bothered her.
    Shots rang out on the television, and Christian turned to see what was happening. She turned away and shut her eyes.
    When Kathrine awoke, it was light in the room. Christian was dressed, and sitting in a chair by the window. He was looking at his photos. Kathrine sat up in bed.
    “Did you sleep well?” asked Christian.
    “What about you?”
    “I’m not sure. My girlfriend never stays the night. My parents…”
    “But…?”
    “That was nice,” said Christian, and held out a photo to Kathrine. She knelt on the bed to look at it. The cover slipped away, and she realized she was naked, and she felt ashamed. But Christian kept looking at the photo he was holding out to her.
    “The aquarium at Vancouver,” he said. “They had dolphins…”
    He had sat down on the side of the bed next to her, and was flipping through the pictures.
    “Killer whale. Squid. They’re terribly intelligent. Have you ever eaten squid?”
    “I wouldn’t do that. I was in the aquarium at Boulogne.”
    She took the quilt off the bed, and wrapped herself in it. “It’s cold.”
    “If you like, we can take the night train from Cologne to Copenhagen. Then we could spend another day here.”
    “Is that what you want to do with your life? Travel?”
    “No,” said Christian, “no.” He thought about it awhile, and then he said no again.
    It was a fine day in Paris. The city was very light, pale gray and silver. Belle de jour, said Kathrine.
    “The Sacré-Coeur,” said Christian, and pointed to the horizon, where a white church was shown in relief against the cloudy sky, “the blessed heart.”
    At five they were on the train.
    In Cologne, they changed to the night train. They were on the platform far too early. They stood and waited silently, side by side. This is it, I’m going back now, thought Kathrine. We’ll part at Kolding, and then I’ll go home, what else is there for me? I’ll go back to my apartment. Thomas will call sometime, or my mother. Thomas will ask where I’ve been, and my mother will say what did I think I was playing at, and poor Thomas, and didn’t I think of the child at all? And then she’ll