Did she sometimes forget that the garden had so much shade, so many black holes in which to disappear, to dissolve in the invisible? A blackbird lands on the edge of a water basin and switches between washing and vigilance with continual rhythm. His wet wings splash light that extinguishes in the shade. The peaceful place is but an appearance. In the garden death is constantly lurking.
But now it is really about to happen, it could also be, that not the hotel, but the garden is the agreed place to meet, and really that is the more obvious choice for a first time. The scent of blooming jasmine entices entrance into the labyrinth, it needs to happen in the middle. The pivotal point of the island, a Mount Fuji in miniature that provides outlook. Where the drizzle stops and you no longer need to ask yourself and wonder where or who you are.
They each choose their own entrance. That was to be expected given their profile. How could it otherwise be. Moonlight does not help, neither do the prints of earlier footsteps. That’s just treacherous. You start calling out but you do not dare to use the name of the other because you know that it is an alias and that’s too embarrassing to say out loud, reading it is bad enough already. So you let out a cry which directly dissolves in the symphony of bird sounds and groaning tigers and lionesses which simulate a climax. You do not want to seem inferior to the other, do you?
You slide through trial and error one path after the other, cul-de-sac, straying, dissolving into nothingness. You ask yourself why you ever started this journey. Sometimes you seem like a loose cannon that drifts about, wandering, drunk, that lost the road for good