Chap­ter II unfolds against the back­drop of a March day that mir­rors the errat­ic nature of time itself, as win­ter strug­gles to release its grip on the land while spring attempts to assert itself. March 10th, a date that marks Addie’s birth­day, has become less of a cel­e­bra­tion and more of a reminder of the stark con­trast between her time­less exis­tence and the world around her. For Addie, whose exis­tence stretch­es far beyond the nat­ur­al aging process, the con­cept of grow­ing old­er is an alien one, and her birth­day has long ceased to hold any mean­ing­ful sig­nif­i­cance. Instead, the day serves as a qui­et reflec­tion of the years she has lived, the mem­o­ries that have fad­ed into the recess­es of her mind, and the unend­ing cycle of exis­tence that she endures with­out the com­fort of the pass­ing years.

How­ev­er, this March day feels dif­fer­ent. Drawn by an impulse she has long ignored, Addie ven­tures into a bou­tique, com­pelled by the vibrant, eye-catch­ing dis­play of cloth­ing in the win­dow. The man­nequin, dressed in a style that con­trasts with her own, seems to beck­on her, and instinc­tive­ly, she mir­rors its pose. This small, uncon­scious act sym­bol­izes some­thing greater: a brief moment of sur­ren­der to the idea of change, to the pos­si­bil­i­ty of blend­ing in, of adopt­ing a nor­mal­cy that, for most, comes with time and growth. Inside, she immers­es her­self in the lux­u­ry of the bou­tique, sur­round­ed by soft fab­rics that feel for­eign to her unchang­ing form. The expe­ri­ence of select­ing a striped cash­mere sweater and leg­gings is more than just about new clothes—it’s an oppor­tu­ni­ty for Addie to tem­porar­i­ly escape the con­straints of her eter­nal exis­tence and expe­ri­ence life through the lens of those who age and evolve.

As she changes in the fit­ting room, her atten­tion is drawn to a small, wood­en ring that falls from her jack­et pock­et. The ring, made of ash-gray wood, car­ries with it a weight of emo­tion­al sig­nif­i­cance, remind­ing her of a time when things were dif­fer­ent, when she was con­nect­ed to some­one or some­thing that no longer exists. Yet, rather than falling into nos­tal­gia or the sor­row­ful mem­o­ries tied to the ring, Addie choos­es to focus on the present. The deci­sion to pur­chase the clothes, to engage with the sim­ple plea­sures of the moment, is an act of defi­ance against the empti­ness of eter­ni­ty. The clothes, which fit her unchanged body with ease, rep­re­sent a fleet­ing con­nec­tion between her and the world that moves for­ward, a world she can nev­er tru­ly par­tic­i­pate in. In this brief moment, the ring and its asso­ci­at­ed mem­o­ries are put aside in favor of the tan­gi­ble present.

As she removes the price tags from the clothes, Addie dis­miss­es the con­cept of cost—not just the lit­er­al price of the cloth­ing but the metaphor­i­cal cost of liv­ing in a world that is obliv­i­ous to her time­less exis­tence. In this moment, as she exam­ines her­self in the mir­ror, Addie sees more than just her reflec­tion; she sees a defi­ance, a qui­et rebel­lion against the unyield­ing pas­sage of time. She’s not sim­ply a woman try­ing on clothes; she’s a being who has endured cen­turies of soli­tude, of change, and yet still finds the will to live, to engage with the world, how­ev­er briefly. As she stands before the mir­ror, she offers her­self a sim­ple, soli­tary acknowl­edg­ment: “Joyeux anniver­saire.” It’s a qui­et recog­ni­tion of the com­plex jour­ney she’s lived—one that stretch­es across time and space, a jour­ney marked by fleet­ing con­nec­tions, end­less soli­tude, and the silent weight of being both part of and apart from the world around her.

This moment of per­son­al cel­e­bra­tion, how­ev­er small, is a rare vic­to­ry for Addie. In a life where time moves relent­less­ly for­ward for every­one but her, the act of mark­ing her own existence—if only for a moment—is a small, yet pro­found, dec­la­ra­tion of her endur­ing spir­it. Through the sim­ple act of buy­ing new clothes, Addie reaf­firms her con­nec­tion to the world, to her­self, and to the frag­ile thread of nor­mal­cy she clings to, even if it’s fleet­ing. “Joyeux anniver­saire” is not just a birth­day wish—it’s a tes­ta­ment to her resilience, a qui­et acknowl­edg­ment that despite her end­less exis­tence, she can still find moments of mean­ing, of belong­ing, in a world that con­tin­ues to move for­ward with­out her.