We stood close to each other and I remembered how we once had watched the cloudless summer sky together and how I had followed her on bare feet along the crude timber planks. The past is not subject of correction. Every loss is different.

Gently she offered me her hands and mentioned not a single word of the past. Afterwards everybody went their separate ways. The moment did not exist any longer and nothing seemed real. A new reality started taking shape. The wind blew an autumn melancholia in the air while I watched a long time until her silhouette faded in the distance.