Part 11

I first saw you in a corridor.  A corridor high in a building. Built on a hillside.  It was late in the day and the sun was bright.  You were heading west. Silhouetted against a window.  Rays of light surrounded you.  Walking west away from me.  As I watched the drums started in my head.  The beat amplified by blinding light from a west facing window.  Frozen for a moment, yet sometimes, oftentimes, you are still there, even now. The drums beating in my head.  A rhythm that has remained. I saw your long straight hair.   I remember your clothes and your smell.  And I remember fleetingly a face.  You turned and looked east.  Two faces fleetingly facing the future.  

© swissterrace 2023
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The drum beat of your sentences mirrors the the beat inside. You say so much with so little and leave so much hanging.

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