But life is not a French erotic novel, it is not as dazzling as Last Year at Marienbad, or as heart-wrenching a Shangri-Las record, and reality keeps on rearing its ugly head up in her reveries.
As sleep does not want to come and morning approaches, slowly her old resentments start to bubble up, she is overcome by depression thinking back how she always hated school and her French literature course; how big of a blow was for her when she failed her thesis dissertation on bird symbols in Proust; how she tried in vain to break into the art world; how money always eluded her, and how she hates her job, her cold mother, her vulgar father and all of the prospects life can offer her. But most of all, she regrets how her friendships have gone sour, and while Karl and Isa can bravely carry on and succeed on life's battlefield, she is slowly left behind, disgusted by the compromises she has to make, but jealous of their charisma and confidence.
It seemed all that life had to offer her is shallowness, noise and poverty. But now she has an escape plan and she is going to fight to get it through.
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