Continuum

If I could, I would take it all away. Everything. Your everyday life, my everyday life (well, in that there are caveats) to leave us standing on a blank canvass. I would make the ground, the players, the media centre, the other journalists, all fade slowly into a brilliant white emptiness.

 

I would wipe time, too. Time is your worst enemy and I would take the hands of the clock and spin them so fast the numbers on the face would simply melt away. You would not be late; you could sink down onto the canvass and rest. And I would stay with you, quiet and still.

 

But what it is about you that inspires this, I do not know. Over the months I’ve imagined different theories, made up various excuses, but nothing has really changed. I am still the woman in the green dress; you are still the man who whispered “Come here.” We are still pretending there is nothing between us, but the veil is wearing increasingly thin. There are moments when it rips; and a look, a word, or a touch, gives us away to ourselves.

 

There is no practical answer; no empty space in a country without time. Nowhere and no way to piece together a quiet and separate corner of the world that is ours. But in my mind’s eye I see us people the canvass with sketches of new memories. Why?