Looking at that great summer giant from inside his moving car, its magnificent stillness and volume all the more arresting as the passing landscape flashed by underneath, there was a sense of solidarity and closeness that only strangers know.
Hello beautiful, he offered. Where are you from? Have you travelled far? What was that sense of familiarity, he wondered. Ah yes, he thought. Yes, I knew we had something in common, relieved to have been able to put his finger on it.
They were both orphans, you see. Orphans could always recognize each other. He felt the same resonance with people, more often in recent days, as if there was something of an orphan in everyone.
The old lady he’d just passed about the cross the road once his car had passed. I see you, darling, and I feel your tired lonely heart, weary of this foreign place. And she was gone from his rear view mirror, just like that cumulus, and he wondered what would become of them.
Constant Voice 