I know that in a second you will disappear. The curtain will close. But while you are here, I have time to catch the frequency of my thoughts. The sky looks as if it has never known cold. The earth — of the first snow. Here it smells of coats and strangers' breath. I look out the window and do not want to arrive anywhere. I am at peace in this interval. You stand close to one another — like a village, like memory, like something that does not wait for me. But I still look at you, because in this gaze there are no obligations. I do not have to return to you. I can simply watch. Thoughts do not have time to grow fears. They flicker as fast as you do. I cannot fix you in my sight. I will never return to that version of myself that left you this morning. The journey changes me. Even if you just stand and watch me. You, house, loom in the distance — as schematic as all your other versions. But you are the most real one. Because I saw you. And I felt you. We had only this second. But in this pink second, in this space where I am simply moving in an unknown direction, not wanting to arrive anywhere — I feel whole. Nothing is decided yet. Thank you for the twilight gleaming. #6