Well, in Silences, or a Woman’s Life, someone told me, there are bits and pieces—I’m not telling a linear story. There is always the aspect of this woman in the hospital who is going to die, and this woman having her memories. For me, these four or five weeks of my mother’s coma, when I was with her, was replacing the silence. My words were replacing her silence. Really, it was like I was her. But I was not her completely because there were so many things I didn’t know, couldn’t tell. She says, “My life is full of holes,” because her life was like this material that fades and disappears.
An interview with Marie Chaix. [via The Paris Review]