Last summer, when driving in Rome, I became very excited when I saw another English car. And then I thought, ‘How strange: if I saw the same car in London I’d not be excited at all.’
And it’s the same with us, I’ve come to realize. We met too closely. If we’d met on some other planet, for example, we still have so much still to discuss.
“The press of sunshine on your face?” I’d ask you. “You remember that? And how about the hiss and shush of waves through shingle?”
I could even sneak you a small stone from the mother planet. And you could smile your smile.