Sun throughout the day, cold throughout the sun. Nobody on the streets. Parked parks. Still no snow but wind, wind, a red tree still burns in the chilled air. Talking to it, I talk to you. I am in a room abandoned by language. You are in another identical room, or we both are on a street your glance has depopulated. The world imperceptibly comes apart. Memory decayed beneath our feet. I am stopped in the middle of this unwritten line.