Trottoirs – Part I

There are several sidewalks that I would like to revisit with you. The first is the one right outside of your old place, beaten with weather, swept over with maple leaves. The sidewalk was cracked in so many places that a meadow was forging its way through, betraying the city. In the blues, we’d slip and stumble, holding on to each other, dashing for warmth, then caressing it with our hands, retaining it in our coats. We trusted our tears, our woes, our comforts, and our soles to that sidewalk. We met through that sidewalk, we parted on that sidewalk, we floated above it too.

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