We met at the edge of winter and spring on a silent white clearing. The whiteness was bright and it hurt my eyes. My mind was all shadows and black spongy clouds of weariness. You were a child hungry for attention so we played a game. A game of telling each other about our lives. I thought we were allowed to be light-hearted about it. I thought we were allowed to invent, which is not the same as to cheat. I was surprised to have won truth instead. Now when I look at you I am still bewildered that I'm not playing out game anymore when I say: love.
