Written in the splendid bareness of her late style, these pages are Marguerite Duras's theory of comparing a dying fly to the work of style; remembering the trance and incurable disarray of writing; recreating the last moments of a British pilot shot during World War II and buried next to her house; or else letting out a magisterial, so what? To question six decades of story telling, all the essays together operate as a deceitful, yet indispensable confession.