This begins here - in the street.
An elderly man has stopped outside the newsagent’s – he had intended to look at the small ads posted in the window but a red bus trundling past distracted him. Then a fox ran across the road and disappeared behind someone’s bins.
This is London.
It’s a Friday.
There is a soft suggestion of snow.
The man turns round – slowly – as if he is standing on a playground roundabout. Suddenly everything is clear in his mind and he starts whistling.
It’s a tune made famous by Smokey Robinson and The Miracles.
Miraculously - a woman passing by – recognises the melody and starts singing.
I can see clearly now the rain has gone….
Her voice slowly fades as it follows her into the newsagent’s.
Normally – this is not a normal Friday – the man would watch her. He is elderly but he still appreciates beauty.
And she is beautiful.
Raven black hair and green eyes - or is it auburn and her eyes blue?
Brown.
Brown eyes.
Spanish eyes.
She’s wearing a hat.
Bu....t he doesn’t watch – he hardly notices.
He sees something else.
Shadows and memories.
Where does he see them?
Elsewhere.
Somewhere he was once, but is no longer.
As the fox returns, hurrying back across the road, and the bus trundles away - smaller and smaller – he tries to see them.
The shadows and memories.
But they are hidden behind a thick velvet drape the colour of midnight blue – and his vision is not that of a young man.
A young man walks out of the newsagent’s – he is carrying the day’s newspaper. The headline reads shadows and memories. He stops and looks at the elderly man and then looks at the newspaper. His eyes are bright – like the fox – but even he can’t read the words.
The shadows are too deep.
The memories deeper still.
The young man goes to say something. And stops.
The elderly man understands. And nods.
The woman stands in the doorway watching them both. She is eating ice- cream – unusual for a winter’s day. But this is not a normal winter’s day.
This time the elderly man looks at her.
She is made of shadows.
And memories.
The ice-cream is real.
“Why are you crying?”
The man looks down.
A small child is talking to him.
She is eating an ice-cream.
The man is not aware that of his tears but as soon as the question is asked he knows the answer.
“I’m happy.”
“Then would you like a lick of my ice-cream?”
“May I?” The man is polite. Surprised and polite. It’s a combination that has endured for him.
The girl giggles – she has never heard the word may before. It tickles her ears when she hears it. She holds the ice cream towards the man. It’s a long way.
A lifetime.
“The realm of shadows and memories…” he begins.
“It only exists once you leave…” she finishes for him.
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