Joris Iven





It was always summer, we breathed in sea-air and walked along footpaths

in Bruges. I walked next to you. I didnít know you. I didnít touch you,

not even casually. You cast a long shadow in front of you.

The asphalt melted with the heat. We stopped at the traffic lights.

I didnít look at you. We could hear each other breathe.

We went on our way and our shadows fell across each other.

I didnít want to follow you, but avoided you just as little.

Now and again the shadow of a tree fell across our shadow

and I realised how small we were. Repeatedly though we translated

our bodies and our motion into a shadow. We didnít speak,

but secretly sensed each otherís presence,

in that street. We shared our shadows. Our paths

diverged, but we embraced that which translated us.




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