In a quaint cafe' in Venice, the way he looks, watches me. Structured face, expressive mouth, and his lips, so eloquent. My eyes troll him with roaming interest, shouldered beside him, existing in two vastly different worlds, yet springs of similar coil drive both our need. Speaking seems so superfluous, as we trail in silence, and the warmth of my own blood takes me by surprise. The world suddenly, gradually, detaches from the norm.