Music

Do you remember sitting in that hotel lobby, jet-lagged, after a trans-atlantic flight, with that vapid orange juice in your hand, your heart still in California, and the singer ruthlessly reading your heart?

That was us.

It was us, playing in the deepest of Delta moods, whom you passed by that muggy summer night near the Danube.

It was us evoking the song of the sea while you were kissing like blind in that Lisbon pub.

And on the radio, when you were driving at 90 wanting to leave it all behind.

When will we meet next?