The infinite blue skies and the promise of promises glowed before my eyes like nuggets of gold. I followed them like a donkey going after a carrot. The orange light, spectral and warm, reminded me of childhood summer holidays in Europe. Gentler, more innocent times, when the threat of death and decay was far away, like birds in the sky free to be whatever they wanted to be, only in this day and age, they’re not free at all but chained to a church spire that wobbles in the wind threatening to impale me like that scene from The Omen. When I walk through the nearby cemetery, I give its spire a wide birth while always mindful not to step upon the centuries-old graves. Some have headstones while others are only identifiable by the slight indentations in the earth that house the remains of those who faded from memory long ago. There are things in life that were once real but are now gone, yet everything leaves a trace, guiding us along whether we realise it or not. The lines in the sky, so delicate and precise, remind me of those on the palm of my lover, deep and full of secrets I’ll never know.