taken away again

So I was still puzzling over any hidden constraints in Michèle Métail's text, when I noticed a legal pad sitting on the window sill in the bedroom. I've used these legal pads over the years for everything from phone numbers to grocery lists to whatever. I didn't know why this particular one was sitting on the window sill: in our household, either my husband, or the kid, or the cat likes to drag things out 'n' about, so there's always an element of surprise in how things are arranged at any particular moment.

Well, this particular notebook happened to contain notes on Métail's text. I think I must have jotted them down during a conversation with Harry Mathews, who knows Métail and her work, although there's nothing else at all about that conversation. Anyway, I rushed the notebook to my desk, to later transcribe my handwriting, and wrote my dad (really my co-translator) about this serendipidous discovery.

Now I look at it this morning, ready to delve into the mysteries of Le Cinq Pieds, and what do I see? Half of that one particular page has been torn off. A dim memory from a few days ago comes back: my husband saying "Ismael, leave mommy's notebook alone." Scream.

Anyway, here's what I have left:

endless succession of genetives
'70s already begun work
every day inspired by an

UPDATE: I found the other half crumpled up behind my computer!