finally we are no one.
There are things you can hold for years without ever holding them still.
A season.
A feeling.
A person.
A life.
And then, almost imperceptibly, something begins to move.
Not away, exactly.
Just elsewhere.
Change rarely announces itself.
There is no moment when everything becomes different.
Things simply change, little by little.
So slowly that you don't notice.
Until one day, you look at something you once knew by heart and realise you no longer know it at all.
Perhaps love is like that.
And perhaps that is the strangest part of all.
Nothing disappears.
We just become elsewhere.