As you sleep childhood hurtles towards me. Containers rust in sunlight as a bent and aging form hobbles down the aisle. I wear your foreign eyes to discover the familiar without sympathy… to read my future in the passing scene. Returning is difficult, beginning again is pointless. What is necessary and what is wanted? You continue to sleep. A draught of chill air sweeps through your dreams. I will not let go of what cannot be held. The passing landscape whispers squandered possibility.