Nana and the Sauvage walk ahead of me-hand in hand. I’m forgotten now, an after thought. As I walk, I see a bird floating in mid-air. Hovering really. Using the wind itself to stay suspended in place. It shifts, occasionally flapping its wings. I stand watching it amazed at how much effort it takes in order to stay in place. How much manipulation and sensitivity it takes to be, as they used to say in acting school, in the moment. To be free of the past and not thinking about the future. To simply feel the cool air rush past me and hear the crashing of the ocean. Not to think about getting back to Charles de Gaulle or the States or even writing about this moment, which will happen almost half a year from now. But I don't know that in that moment. Nor do I want to know about it. Or reflect on events that have not happened. Nor do I think about the past, about my father, my tireless conquests of unavailable men, the old friends abandoned, the memories that I feel obligated to keep alive, for if I don't they shall become lost. Standing on that cliff in the twilight, everything falls away. Time, Language, Emotion. The two of us are beings trying to stay in place, in the moment.

The Sauvage eventually calls to me, to follow him. He has noticed my absence. I take a picture of the bird. I know I shouldn't. The moment is already gone and now I'm living in the past again rather than just accept the flow of Time like the wind over my bare arms. Again I'm clinging to memories and fearing the loss of this moment when it's already gone.

I slowly scramble up the cliff. By the time I reach the top, they are already in the car still in their world of two. And me? I'm just trying to stay in place.