An image, fragile, unfocused, but endlessly fascinating - that is all I see of you. You are made up of colours and thoughts and movements, disappearing moments and never fading memories, and yet I know none of them. What lies beneath the surface of your pale skin? I would like to learn. Would you let me? Perhaps.
I see you sometimes, so distant, and wonder, if looking up, you ever see me. Further, and if you do, what is it you think? Do you think anything at all? Do birds in a flock ever consider one another beyond the strangeness of their belonging to the same family? The thought fascinates me, beckons me, yet beguiles me when it yields no answers. I shall pass the days wondering, and cherishing a small hope that I may learn the answers, and that the answers are of a positive nature.