|Interim FOOTNOTE | FOOTNOTES Page | Obituary Page ||
As I walk to the station in the morning with the sun low behind me, I notice that as I pass other commuters I stride a little more purposefully than most I notice that my shadow, stretching ahead, long in the bright spring sunlight, I notice that my shadow is not so black as the shadows it passes.
Approaching people from behind I'm made aware that there's a softness about my shadow, a certain lack of intensity, of sharpness and definition, a greyness that is in marked contrast to the dense fuliginous shapes it passes by. The more people I overtake, the more obvious this odd state of affairs becomes. Am I getting less opaque with age?
The train draws into the station. I crowd on with the rest and the worry is lost in the routine demands of the day.
Today the sun is not shining. I have no shadow. Or worries. ■
|Sole © RFV&SDS, 2009.|