Because I knew her face much better than she knew mine – I made her
disappear, a tiny bit first, then more and more until I too
was no longer sure where she had got to –
because I had studied her much more carefully than she me and because I understood more
about us, because her face is often so clear in my mind, I sometimes wonder
if she would have seen me at all if I hadn’t asked her something.
If she would have existed if I had let her drive on.
Of course it was love – but love is incapable of lying, it doesn’t scream when you say,
hush, it doesn’t run out of breath and doesn’t tie me to anything. Love
lies down before you and listens. True love is always willing.
As far as that goes, I know better now. I wouldn’t have looked at her like that,
I would have loved her differently, not in a hurry with both hands
around her neck – but attentively, mournfully, gently.