She was wounded. I was wounded too. She had a band-aid. I did too. She was out in the heat. I was too. She was hot and sweaty and feeling light-headed. I was feeling these things too. She seemed too delicate for this kind of day, just like I seemed too delicate too.
We used to spend lots of time together in a big old dark gallery together. We both seemed like fish out of water out on the boulevard. I was sitting in the shade, sipping a cold drink, trying to reconnect with all my faculties. She got off her bike and halted her journey to join me.
We sat together and talked about life, about depression, about the heat, about madness, about set theory and about wild goose chases. We cooled off together. We smiled, hugged and parted. Back into the heat of the day...