I waded to the middle of the river and was swept along, searching, searching. I was high in the air but tumbling downward trying to catch you. I stared at the screen until my eyes were dry and sore. I ran down the street pushing past shoppers, over and over. I shouted, screamed, shouted. I turned the key in the lock but the lock fell to the ground so I picked it up and it fell to the ground again and again. Every time I asked for peace a clock clanged the hour. Every time I saw you I awoke.
No matter how hard I search, the internet will not uncloud my memory. How many secrets are trapped there, out of reach? I have been searching for a specific edition of a small and rather famous book by the French resistance writer, Vercors. In my mind its cover is blue, but nothing I find confirms my thoughts. The harder I think, the longer I search, the more frayed my thought gets, and the more afraid I am that the truth is not there. It is gone. I am waiting a response from the sky regarding the silence of the sea.