When you go away
I still see you
The sunlight on your face in my rear view
I wonder how many times we’ve crossed paths, if ever, since the end. Those sunny days of the aftermath, when I went on my daily walks and bike rides in Copenhagen, I looked for her among the runners at the lakes, the passersby on the streets, the lonely souls roaming the city. She’s so far, but she feels so close. Maybe she is close. On her bike, on the way to my flat. In a city nearby, about to jump on a train here. Reading these lines, my voice gently narrating each word in her mind. Or just in my fucking head. A daydream misplaced in the night.