I stand before the window, gazing outside through a gap in the curtains.
In the back garden stands a cherry tree in full bloom.
Beneath it stands a man. His short hair is as soft as silk, and he wears a white cotton shirt and beige cotton trousers. In the moonlight, among the cherry blossoms, he leans gracefully against the tree like a crystal.
Every day, through the curtains, I see him.
Every day, he wears a white cotton shirt and beige cotton trousers, standing quietly in the moonlight.
They say he is waiting for his lover, who has never appeared.
I watch him. Cherry petals fall onto his shoulder. He gently picks one up between his fingers, raises it to the tip of his nose, lowers his lashes, then blows it away. The petal seems to come alive, tracing a beautiful arc, and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.
The blue moonlight makes me feel as if I am in the sea, sinking slowly to the ocean floor. The water presses in around me until I can hardly breathe, its weight making me dizzy. Some thought inside me wants to break free, but all its efforts are in vain.
Despair: he passes it on to me through the moonlight we bathe in together.
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