In the faintly orange air of a late afternoon I sit at a tiny metal sidewalk café table across from another.
I ran into Julian again. I remember the book he comes from but not how he migrated from it.
Each of us is embedded in a time-space. Each carries embeddedness like a fan. When they overlap transparent mosaics form in the air.
Julian and I talk about lines of flight.
I look at the mottled sky from which everything seems suspended.
Every encounter with Julian is exactly the same. .