What do I remember from this day? I remember the sound of the painters, diligent alien men, covering up the stains and the cracks that our hoarse shouts had created.
I remember your beautiful crazy eyes, your indecipherable expression.
I remember studying your voice, your controlled whispers. I recall feeling suddenly both warm and cold like when you plunge naked into a hot bath on an icy day, moving your body through air that chills your skin as you compress yourself in anticipation.