Mirror Image

I'm wearing a corduroy jacket and looking down into the depths of the abyss, only, this time, there is no river but a flow of cars. I am a non-participant observer who lifts her eyebrows when she hears one of the participants speak with a perfect British accent. Still I remain aloof. I take out my Iris Murdoch and read it like my life depended on it. At the end I network. A shy looking young woman speaks Russian at me.