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.