I remember like baggage and it is visceral. I carry it around me like loose change in a pocket, jangling. It brings back taste, and sound and touch.
You remember, too, I am sure. Like loose change in a handbag and every once in a while you come across a shiny silver coin and a joy fills your tiny heart.
You – the improbable, intractable ‘You’. Every time I open my mouth to talk about You it demeans us both that little bit further.