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
The drum beat of your sentences mirrors the the beat inside. You say so much with so little and leave so much hanging.
hi thanks for the feedback..picked up a story i started last year…if your read the earlier bits parts 1 – 9 you will see it mirrors a bit what is going on now…if id finished last year omg id be loaded