Was it a dream? Perhaps a waking dream! Walking in the crowded by-lanes of the busy city. Lanes I have walked a million times before in some other lifetime. Today they seemed new. Like I was there for the first time. The shops, the Taj, the sea, the breeze, the yachts, the eateries, the sun beating down; I have seen them before from  a time I cannot  remember. It’s there in some remote corner of my mind. Why then did they feel so new?  Or was it just me, unchained, uncontaminated, youthful again! The fog lifting, the dust clearing and I felt new again. Or is it a   memory I have lived many times before. A memory trapped in amber, struggling to burst out!  An old, discoloured photograph forgotten in time trying to desperately remind me of days submerged somewhere in my subconscious. Maybe I will never know.  But for those few minutes time had stopped. It keeps playing over and over again like a pin stuck on the vinyl tracks.  The walk, my very own Grecian Urn. My very own little joy forever. As my heart leapt, my surrounding emanating with a presence that felt comforting, very known, my own twin soul.

Have I walked these streets before with you? Have I walked maybe a street similar to this a million times with you, in some other time. Or maybe times. Everytime we have met, have we walked down nursing the same thoughts. And did we part to meet again or do we always meet to part again and again.