We were out on the streets as soon as the sun had set. Me and her, and the beauty that she carried along with her, all the time.
I do not remember how, and I cannot be practical about what good was it doing to my life, but we agreed to go and see a movie. I do not remember what movie it was or where were we. However, I remember us: me, her, and the beauty, her beauty, that she carried with her all the time. Hurrying through the streets, my hand in hers; oh, how skilfully did she lead me – like life leads to death.
I cannot describe her appearance. However, I remember her face, wearing a graceful smile, like the mountains wearing the mist.
Here, there is not much to be said about me. I was led by her. I do not know where, perhaps to a movie theatre.
I willingly followed her, now and then looking around. I stumbled and tripped, on stones and words, and all she did was smile and nod. I did not mind it, no, not at all, for I was happy with her, and the beauty that she carried along with her all the time.
“You look like a Bollywood actress from the 60s,” I said, looking at her.
Her hair, which she had somehow managed to tie around the back of her head, had now hung down in elegant waves up to a decent length. Through it, I could see her, her smile, and the beauty that she carried with her all the time.
She did not reply, and we kept on moving; that moment, to me, felt like eternity.