I ran across the dimples of your imaginary face when I woke up.
I had spent the night looking at you with dissimulated precision, to make an amalgam of what I like so much about you, details that fall in deep places that none of us reach and that I cannot visualize when you are gone, because I always get lost in your fustigating gaze. I had forgotten the coherence of abstraction that dilutes the faces into blurred figures with the passing of days, weeks, months. Like clouds that go away, as it should be.
Time was consumed listening to us.
One song led to another. We slipped down that staircase of memories that lengthened when we met again, as if we had shared a catacomb.
We end up in the bathtub, drinking wine, smoking, with daylight streaming through the window behind us, not wanting to wake up at all from something we quite like but which we know doesn't suit us, us.
Photography by Katie Silvester