Perhaps each day a
woman falls under the spell of a man’s words and glances. She abandons herself
to this onrush of love, clutching at her happiness as a child opens her arms to
embrace the simplistic beauty of soul to whom the greater world is largely
unknown.
Maybe even as the
brightest hours in these fleeting days are overcast by the sadness of their
imminent separation, the surrounding gloom only serves to make the love
sweeter. She had thought this kind of
love impossible in the past and had believed it only existed fictitiously, to
be read about in novels and poems. Holding hands, the couple disintegrates into
the play of reflected light on the water opening out before them until all that
remains is a mauve shadow of their shared memory that, bit by bit, begins to
dissolve.
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