Afterwards I spent hours reading. The serene sky. And we. As if someone had written, blindly, on their own memories. The shadows shadowed. I love to wake up and see you wake up. I read your lines. It is always this slow gaze. I get the day going, writing quietly. Are you on the other side of the sea?
Something was dull (was dull) between my fingers. I found a line somewhere under my bookcase. If I had met you earlier, I would also have followed your gaze.