Monday, 12 November 2007
The leaves blew backwards in furious circles of suspended time. We walked in their midst, enclosed by the wind in a night created just for us. The moonlight was piercing, the pavement wet and the stars cold. Who could say why things had gone the way they did – by all accounts wrong. Afterwards, lying in the stillness, undisturbed by all the good people we knew, we had an idea. It was the darkness we needed to remind each other to hold hands, to bundle up against the ferocity of the unknown. The whole world had gone on as usual, and we had been left behind. I was glad. Glad for the wind and the broken glass and the gaping presence of things undecided. We were the only ones on the street in the eerie auburn light. Veined red and trampled brown spread out a swirling carpet just for us, then dusted our footprints away. Only the moon knew where we were, and we liked it that way.