My dearest,

I thought of you on the train while returning from a journey. I like to get an aisle seat on the plane but always a window seat on the train.

It was nearly 6 pm, dark sky, a sort of thin fog coated the land where everything turned yellow already.

In between the street lights when we pass from fields to cities, in between reality and illusion, I saw your face reflecting on the window glass. It was just a mere moment, but I saw you, like a ghost.

You are my ghost.

You are nothing much but a blurry image to me now. I start to have trouble picturing your face. I thought I’d be terrified, instead, I felt liberated.

The late autumn does it to the North what time does it to me, to us.

I’m going back to the South, my love, the place where we met, on one of the hottest days. It will still be warm, the leaves will still be green.

Not for long, not for long my love, because nothing stays.

But just for a second, even just for a mere moment only.

Words by me, firstly written in November 2019. Photos by Marsh.