Can you acknowledge me just for a moment.
Can you look at me for just a moment
And can you not see me at the same time, can you forget me right after I'm gone from your sight.

It is already an hour and a half later.
I press my back against the curtains. And I feel them breathing against my back.
I touch each book title.
I follow the pattern of the carpet.
I count my spoken words on one hand.
I look at the people.

And in the crowd I try to find someone who is also trying to find someone
Someone who is also partially made of glass.

Everyone is busy, the conversations about the vacation to Berlin, and how long they had to wait for the bus and who they met.
I try to find the silences but they are untraceable
typing without spaces

And then I recognize someone
Someone whose hands I remember well
I recognize the chipped nails and worn nail polish.
And our conversation on the balcony makes me feel like I dare bike home tonight.