It was mid-summer and I started to see sand tracks.
I had never seen them before, nor had I seen Maxime.
Who was carrying bathtubs.

Maxime carried bathtubs, the smallest and the largest.
Made out of porcelain, steel and chrome.
They were all welcome.
The little golden feet left trails, when she gathered the weighty and the light.
But she would drag, she would crawl.
One bathtub, two bathtubs, three or more.
They were all filled,

with whereabouts,
Thingamajigs and thingamabobs.
Because she had visions of the slightest details their worlds contained.
Remembering everything, every day.

So I once asked her,
if they weren’t too heavy to pull.
Did she have blisters on her hands?
Were the tubs too full?

No, not so.
My head may hang low but I know, my peace will come to me.
If a tortoise can carry the globe and multiple elephants , than I can drag memories.
My peace will come to me, when winter and summer meet at the equator.

And so they met.
Winter came and all the taps froze.
And so Maxime went on pause.

She couldn’t reproduce tracks from time long gone.

On her left, stood containers filled with galleons of boiling emotions.
On her right, the sight of her frozen body.
Clattering teeth versus sweat and heat.
A shiver, went straight down her spine.
So she decided to dive into every single pool of emotions.
One bathtub, two bathtubs, three or more.
Keeping her head above flood.
Discovering, she could float.

The heat became lukewarm, the cold became cool.
And winter and summer? They became companions.