under the line (afterthought)
She, of course, was not who she thought he was. For that matter, he was not even close to who he thought he was, and everyone is always wrong about all of these things in spectacularly misguided ways. While he was meeting her in other forms, she was meeting him in other forms, and there were moments when he thought he had gone back in time to her, and times when he thought he had moved forward, and this is what sparked the idea that maybe we don't have to live in the fixed points of the present, but that these things happen simultaneously, and concurrently, and repeat (sometimes for the lessons, but more often than not for the force of the repetition that makes life resemble the drum, the drum of the tongue, the drum of the heart, the drum of the heart on the tongue). And the trick was to learn how to stay in the present while traveling through time. As if a life were an act of time-travel, based on repeated patterns and the moments of their recognition. Like recognizing a matching scar on a lover's body. This has happened before, and this will happen again, and the meanings of the rhythms will only become clear when the lovers go back to the beach and begin with a conversation about the cold night and the moon waiting underneath the clouds for someone to follow the clues.