The chimes of the clock in the background begin to fade and she wonders casually whether that is because she is moving further away or because she stopped listening...

Lamplight is not necessary in summer;

The warmth of the air fills the spaces

where the light should be

But we feel little darkness

The steps under her feet are uneven but she pays little attention; like the calls of the hourglass in the cathedral behind these are familiar to her now. She knows where the crevasses fall, where she needs to take a slightly longer step to avoid getting caught between the steps; where to move to left and right to ensure that she continues at the same steady pace.

Wool and fur are not necessary in summer;

the warmth of the air fills the spaces

even the animals shed their coats

But we feel little cold

The water that passes under the bridge sings a soft but recurring refrain that mimics her steps. Lost in thought she fails to notice the clear echoes. But he doesn't. Watching he wonders if she has ever noticed the water as she passes by; he knows she has never noticed him.

Dreaming...

I think it is difficult to argue that I have had one very specific dream from an early age - unless you count getting to write with Shakespeare and even I have come to realise that this is unlikely to happen now. However, given the focus on dreaming that we all have as one of the defining characteristics of our adolescence, I do believe there is some value in the concept.

It is too simplistic to say 'Oh! I just want to be happy.' Tempting but too simplistic because the concept of happiness is subjective and individual. I also think it too easy to respond with 'I want to be adored', because in all honesty we all want that too; presumably the value of adoration is also tied to the esteem in which we hold the person adoring us. So what is my dream? Or perhaps, what have been my dreams?