I think of us like an old film photograph. The images in the foreground, what you can see right in front of you, are crisp, beautiful and affecting. Just behind fades into increasing blackness, with shapes and clumsy ghosts crowding the frame.
Things between us were clear. Things behind us, things around us, were always blurry.
We were good with what you could see. We were good in front of other people. We were good day to day, filling time and space in the way people do. As things got blurry, with ideas of the future and what couldn’t be seen, so did we. There was no connection beyond us and into any other realm.
It felt like agreeing to live your life without colour.
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