Hello, bottle. There is a friend down there?
Do you see?
No.
But I have pressed my lips to yours.
We have shared a certain intimacy.
Surely, if there is no one there,
Then you must be...there?
...At least.
No.
But you speak.
I am Echo.
My own?
I am all echoes.
I am tomorrow.
I am lament.
I am the wishes the fountain has rejected.
Will you be my friend, then?
No.
But you speak?
To me.
So does regret.
Wait in the gutter while I fetch her.
I have no patience for you.