Do you think of me, as you wander the cobblestone steps of Cordoba? When the flamenco guitarist fiddles string - is it my fingers you imagine twirling and intertwined in between. Like in Lisbon some nights ago, when the fado singer croons and we caught each other's smile at ease.
Venturing separately into unknowns. Yet finding breadcrumbs of familiarity in each other's path, sensing footprints and heartbeats while apart.
-written June 2018
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