" Nobody's hidden your dress", she said. "It's hanging in the press". She lookked at me and said, "I don't believe you know how long you've been here, you poor creature". "On the contrary", I said, "only I know how long Ihave been here. Nights and days, and days and nights, hundreds of them slipping through my fingers. But that does not matter. Time has no meaning. But something you can touch and hold like my red dress, that has meaning. Where is it? "