Slow conversations have been typical of today, every idea requiring a gentle movement towards acceptance, moving like snow seemingly defiant of gravity.
An odd day. Reactions of colleagues and friends have been unforeseen and at times unfathomable as though all are party to some terrible news I have been kept from. As I talk to them, their eyes wander over my shoulder, deep in thought.
they seem to say.
He really has no idea.
And what is to be made of seeing those two, the lovely childhood sweethearts, holding hands as a couple at a traffic junction, only to find upon approaching that they are not they? What is to be made of this? With absolutely certainty I made the break across lines of cars to greet them at the bottom of the curved, grey street – but it was not them.
So, then, to be thinking about those two as I walked up the hill, thinking of their relationship and its unclear trajectory (unclear until, of course, it became clear), thinking of their childhoods and their parting and distance, thinking of the rejoining of flames like two lit matches held together… to be thinking of them and to then actually meet them at the top of the curved, grey street – just serendipitous, or more? What of this?
Ridiculous, of course, nothing more sinister than serendipity, how could it be anything else? Still, what with all this paranoia about, it pays to be careful.