Saturday, 7 November 2015


"Perhaps love finds its most perfect expression in a gesture. Her hand curved around his hand. The human memory is deeply versed in wordless acts, best at retaining the quiet moments of tentative contact..."
from Julia by Otto de Kat

Another moment, then, when fiction rings truer than truth, with a few lines of a novel adding weight and substance to a notion I've had somewhere towards the tip of my own tongue for many years. It's been there for about 20 years now, placed, I am sure, by the echo of an instant that has never left me.

I am lying in the dark in a narrow bed in a back bedroom of a second floor flat in ulica Kielecka in Kraków. I believe the girl lying next to me is fast asleep. Somehow, in shifting the position of her body, she places her foot lightly against my calf. The sole of her foot rests there for a while, feeling cool at first but growing warmer from the contact. Its imprint hasn't faded.

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