The window, the small opening and the soft breeze on the other side. The curtain almost transparent, swaying gently in the sun. The memories of us are still alive, of your soul inside mine and mine in yours, of your delicate hands as they explored my skin, as if searching for unknown continents. You close your eyes and fall asleep on my chest. Life was so very different then, when love was a new word and as intense and fleeting as we where, impossible to seize or save. I want to remember but that summer appears more and more like a dream, slowly fading until perhaps one day it to will fall into oblivion. I stand alone now, by the horizon of my life whose splinters and slivers I gather in yet another feeble attempt to recreate what I once was.