It was crouching at the big clear sheet
which protected the latest excavations,
the passage of feet and the smell
of rose oil in the underground –
it had me shouting into a mobile
about where we should meet and how.
And, of course, it would all be fine
and, next thing you know, here we are,
with those playful cats and the view
across darkness between blocks.
There’s a mountain out there
and a dilemma on the table:
your hospitality thwartedby an absence of the right glasses.
Image: Marina Shiderova; text: Tom Phillips