There’s days when my body forgets where it is at home
when the memory dissolves on my skin;
days when parts of me are unmoved
slowly freezing into winter…

There’s days when the traces of what was disappear
when the imprints are buried;
days when the silence becomes suffocating
waiting for your sound to fill that space inside…

There’s days when I am right back there
in all the colours and smells and warmth;
before it yields and takes me back to reality
so I fall again, and again and again

Searching for what remains when we let go of a person, for traces and imprints,
and for what it means to dance alone what once was a duet.