She's lit another cigarette, her gaze rheumy, while Sonja's over forty and in two places at once. She's standing on a side street in a capital city that won't have anything to do with her, yet she's also far away in the landscape. She's grown up and playing the part, but she's also a child who doesn't want to learn her lesson, who won't adapt, won't be like the others and think what the others think, whatever that might be. She wants to get free, utterly free, and so she has to take flight, and it's as if, the moment she saw Jytte approaching, Sonja pressed an elevator button in her mind.