To The Lady on the Train,
I dream of you almost every night. I dream of you in days and times past; times when I knew the various shapes of your eyes, the patterns of freckles, and the sound of your voice and breath. I dream of times that have never happened but might have happened, or may yet come to be, or perhaps have happened in a different lifetime. And sometimes I dream of you though I can not see you as you are now. You may be invisible or take the form of a large bird or cat; but I always am able to recognise you. It is always in your eyes, in your strength and bearing, it is always in the way that air and light change wherever you are.
In my dreams we have crossed centuries and worlds.
The Man in the Station
